


were like northern stars (on a narrow way)

by bloodredcherries



Series: Law and Order: Riverdale Victims Unit [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, FP Jones II tries, Gen, Good Parent FP Jones II, Hal Has Issues, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, M/M, past Alice Cooper/Hal Cooper - Freeform, past FP Jones II/Gladys Jones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-07-16 08:28:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 58,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16082318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodredcherries/pseuds/bloodredcherries
Summary: In the end, Jughead thinks the entire thing is just some hideous cliche.The note that his mother leaves is ridiculously trite [Payback is a bitch, FP -- it’s your turn now] followed by some song lyrics that even he thinks are beyond all emo words (and this is Jughead Jones, people), but could have possibly meant something to his parents, back when Mom was still married to Dad, and they were in drugged up, fucked up, bliss.Before Toledo.Before Alice Cooper had shown up at the door of his childhood trailer, a bump visible under her shirt, tears in her eyes, and before promises from his father of sobriety and rehab, that the man had managed to keep. Before the bitter divorce that had led to Gladys Jones taking both children with her to Ohio, looking (in the eyes of the family court judge) to be the better parent.(Look at FP Jones, people had said, he’s ruined two families in one go).(AKA Jughead and Jellybean come back to a changed Riverdale)





	1. payback

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the characters that I have written about in this story, they are the property of the CW and Archie Comics. 
> 
> The title of this fic is borrowed from "God Bless the Broken Road" (Rascal Flatts). In addition, the chapter titles are borrowed from the episode titles of Law and Order, SVU. I do not claim ownership of either. 
> 
> This fic is AU canon divergent but will contain storylines that have happened in canon. If I involve spoilers from season 3 at any point I will place a note in the chapter summary.

In the end, Jughead thinks the entire thing is just some _hideous_ cliche.

 

The note that his mother leaves is ridiculously trite [Payback is a bitch, FP -- it’s your turn now] followed by some song lyrics that even he thinks are beyond all emo words (and this is Jughead Jones, people), but could have possibly meant something to his parents, back when Mom was still married to Dad, and they were in drugged up, fucked up, bliss.

 

Before Toledo.

 

Before Alice Cooper had shown up at the door of his childhood trailer, a bump visible under her shirt, tears in her eyes, and before promises from his father of sobriety and rehab, that the man had managed to keep. Before the bitter divorce that had led to Gladys Jones taking both children with her to Ohio, looking (in the eyes of the family court judge) to be the better parent.

 

(Look at FP Jones, people had said, he’s ruined two families in one go).

 

He’d never asked his dad, but he supposed it was possible they’d been in love. Jughead was dubious, considering that five months after their wedding, he’d shown up, but it was always a possibility.

 

But -- Mom was dead; Jellybean was screaming (because Jelly had to be the one to find her, naturally. It was best to start the trauma early); and it was just so _beautifully_ and _typically_ poetic.

 

But, yes, it was definitely a cliche.

 

“What do we do?” Jelly asked him quietly. “Are you sure she’s not sleeping? Maybe I should get her a blanket?”

 

Of course, as typical of Gladys Jones, her cliche, FP Jones traumatizing, death scene, had taken place an entire day too early. Truthfully, he thought that was for the best.

 

“Don’t touch her,” he told her. “We need to call 911.”

“Because she’s sleeping?” Jellybean asked him, eyes filled with innocence. “I don’t understand. Why did she write Dad a note? Won’t she be here to talk to him and Alice tomorrow?”

“She’s not sleeping,” he said, after a moment. “Jelly, maybe you should go watch television. While we wait.”

 

The apartment is small, but Jughead has a TV in his room, and he trusts that Jellybean won’t destroy things in there, while he calls the police and pretends that Mom is just playing a game, that she didn’t purposely off herself to spite his father.

 

He heard the television click on, and the sounds of a likely inappropriate program blared in the background. Mom had clearly ODed on _something_ (though what it was, Jughead had no idea or way to narrow it down), and was _clearly_ very dead. It almost seemed anticlimactic to report her.

 

He thought about calling his dad. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he should know (it would probably have been obvious when Jughead and Jellybean packed their lives away into the bed of his truck, but sometimes FP could be clueless), but, rather, he didn’t know how to begin to explain. Nor did he really see the point. Dad was Dad, and he and Alice were coming down tomorrow anyways, so what was the point in calling? It wasn’t like dead mom was really any less functional than living mom.

 

He sighed.

 

Alice would have a fit if her routine was displaced, and he knew that.

 

But, still. She probably wouldn’t have wanted him to just _sit_ on the news that Gladys was dead.

 

And there was Jelly to consider. Jelly had been too young to remember when FP and Gladys had been together, and she had accepted Alice with open arms. While Jughead still found it odd that his friend’s mother had become his stepmother, Jelly hadn’t cared. Living in Toledo with Mom, and spending vacations in Riverdale with Dad and Alice was all the young girl had known, and there were no clashing memories of falling apart trailers and movie nights at the house that Betty (she went by Betty now, he was pretty sure) had held for him and Archie, back before everything changed.

 

He was pretty sure that Hal Cooper still owned that house, on that street, across from Fred Andrews.

 

That divorce had been bitter, too.

 

But, Hal Cooper wasn’t lying dead on the floor in front of him, so Betty and Polly still came out ahead on the parents that were living and semi-functioning front.

 

He sighed, again, tugging on his beanie cap before he picked up the house phone, and his fingers fumbled as he dialed the three numbers. “ _Toledo emergency services, please state your emergency_ ,” the bland voice on the other end of the phone decreed, and he cleared his throat.

 

“It’s my mother,” he said, sounding much older than his almost 14 years. “She’s dead.”

 

Life, when it wasn’t just generally depressing for Jughead, had served to make him incredibly pragmatic. There was no histrionics as he spoke on the phone to the 911 operator, as he went through the motions of attempting CPR (the body was _cold_ , he’d wanted to say, but he had stopped himself), and, then, getting together the things that they had been going to bring to Riverdale, collecting Jellybean from his room as the police watched. Jughead thought that they were being ridiculous. His mother was dead, and he _knew_ that. But why couldn’t they just stay in the apartment until it was time for Dad to get them? That was what made sense to him.

 

The police (for some reason) thought that leaving a 13 and a 7 year old alone in a shitbox apartment, in a bad part of town, without any adult supervision, when their mother had just died, was a _terrible_ idea.

 

So, through gritted teeth, Jughead had given them his father’s phone number, and his stepmother’s. For Jellybean’s sake, he’d rationalized this. It was important to Jellybean. He guessed that it wasn’t great for her to be staying in a literal crime scene.

 

Him? He would have been fine. He always was.

 

This was just another chapter in his memoir.

 

***

 

The police office was mainly open air, and Jughead had shoved himself in the corner of the room, making sure to keep Jellybean away from the prying eyes of the derelicts, and the cops, keeping her focused on the coloring books that she had brought with her, having convinced her that there was absolutely _nothing_ more that FP and Alice Jones would love from her (after being woken up in the middle of the night by the ever so terrible news that they would have two new full time children on a permanent basis) was a special work of art by Forsythia Jones. Jellybean had wrinkled her nose at the name, but had decided that falling silent and taking out her crayons was the best course of action.

 

Dad had been sleeping when the police had called him, Jughead had surmised, having listened in on the officers that were in charge of the twosome’s conversation, but, Alice had answered the phone, and, in a typical fashion (the police officer had sounded impressed with this, but he knew that being called to the police station in the middle of the night at short notice was nothing new for Alice, given her role at the local paper back in Riverdale) managed to be both awake and functioning, at least enough to assure the proper adults that some semblance of a guardian was coming for their newest wards.

 

“Mom’s dead,” he texted Betty, not knowing whether or not she had accompanied the Joneses to Toledo, but deciding that it was worth risking her and Polly being at Hal’s, and dealing with his wrath. “Dad is going to take us home.”

 

He scrunched down in the chair, trying his best to be invisible. He didn’t want to hear misguided concern directed at him by well meaning adults that thought it was _so sad_ that the two of them didn’t have a mother anymore.

 

Maybe Jughead was being unfair, blaming everything on his mom, and on her increasingly poor decisions. Maybe he should have been more lenient on her, given that she was on her way to the morgue, and she wasn’t there to defend her actions, to defend the letter she’d written to his dad, to explain why she had done what she’d done. But, blame her, Jughead did.

 

If he and Jellybean were so difficult to deal with, couldn’t she have just let them go home? Without the whole _dying_ thing?

 

This positively _sucked_.

 

It was only a small, tiny, mercy that Alice and Gladys Jones both relished whatever control of a situation they could get, and that the former had arranged for their family to arrive in Toledo with at least a day to spare, to ensure that FP had as much of his limited custody arrangement as possible. He knew that they had her control freak nature to thank for them actually being in the city, as, if left to his own devices, FP wouldn’t have had such foresight.

 

He still thought that they could have waited for them in the apartment.

 

“Your parents are here,” a new police officer said, one who obviously had no idea of the situation, and he gazed at her, his expression one of pure boredom. “You and Forsythia take after your dad.”

Jughead could see why an unobservant observer would think that that was the case. He followed the officer’s gaze across the room, spotting his father speaking to the policeman that had been on the scene at the apartment, little Charlotte Jones held tightly in his arms. Alice was standing beside him, her two equally blonde daughters in tow.

 

(Jughead knew that they were blonde because Alice was blonde, and Mr. Cooper was blonde, or at least he had been back when Betty and Jughead had been friends with Archie, and Mr. Cooper had been able to look at him without looking like he was going to pop him off.)

 

(Jughead wasn’t allowed to be around Polly and Betty’s father unsupervised. That may have been connected to the above.)

 

“She’s my stepmother,” he muttered. “And they’re not my sisters.” He nudged Jellybean with his foot. “Come on, Jelly. Alice is here, with Betty and Polly. They’re here to see us.”

 

“Really?” Jellybean asked, glancing in their direction, before returning to her coloring. “Okay.”

He was going to insist that she get up, when the approaching sound of clacking footsteps made it obvious that his effort in getting Jellybean to behave would be fruitless, as Alice had taken her leave from FP and was crossing the room towards them, Polly and Betty having the sense to follow about twenty paces behind.

 

“There the two of you are,” she breathed, after stalking across the room like she owned the place. He supposed that was a holdover from Riverdale, where Alice Jones _did_ rule crime scenes and their aftermaths. “I’m so sorry,” she added, and she leaned over to brush a kiss against his cheek. “Your mom…”

“Jellybean is the one you should feel sorry for,” he said, gesturing to the girl. “Considering that she found her. All I did was call 911.” He sighed. “We would have been okay,” he added. “You could have waited to come get us.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chided, lowering herself down so she could be on Jelly’s level, smoothing out the girl’s hair. “Do you honestly think your father and I would have left the two of you sitting here until tomorrow morning?”

 

“Juggie,” Betty said, clutching Polly’s hand tightly, and he realized that she looked like she’d been crying. “Your mom _died_. Why wouldn’t we be there for you?”

 

The truth was, that, even with all of her faults, like the fact that Jughead strongly suspected Alice had some type of mostly-controlled mood disorder, he could see why Betty and Polly would think that his mother dying was some sort of earth shattering, weeper of an event, instead of just the unsurprising aftermath of years upon years of poor decisions. He would have been upset if Alice had died, even, though he tried very hard to maintain stoic indifference around the woman who had stolen his dad’s heart and (according to Gladys) ruined his life, though given that ruining his life had consisted of him...sobering up and getting a legitimate job? Jughead was sort of okay with that result.

 

He sighed. “No, I know that you and Dad wouldn’t do that,” he allowed. “And, I appreciate the two of you being there for me,” he said. “It’s really not needed, but I appreciate it.” The glance Polly and Betty exchanged didn’t go unnoticed by him.

 

“Why wouldn’t it be needed?” Polly asked, her brows raised.

 

“It’s not like it’s a surprise, is it?” He asked. “I mean, maybe her grand fuck you note to Dad was a turn up for the books,” he allowed. Alice shot him a glare, covering Jelly’s ears. “It was only a matter of time,” he concluded. “She wasn’t like your mom...we’re better off.”

 

“Are they really coming to stay with us?” She asked Alice. “For good?”

 

“Of course they are,” she said. Her eyes flashed. Jughead inwardly cringed. “Honestly, Polly, the questions you ask sometimes.”

 

“I was just _wondering_ ,” Polly said. “It was a question.”

 

“FP is their father,” she said. “He _should have_ gotten custody of them in the first place, Margaret Cooper. Obviously, they are going to live with us.”

Margaret Cooper was Mr. Cooper’s mother’s name, so it was surprising to hear Alice use it. While she often called Betty Elizabeth, there was obviously a bit of...strife between her and the Cooper Matriarch, so, as long as Jughead had known her, Polly had tended to be solely Polly.

 

The presence of Polly and Betty in Toledo at all was perplexing to him. They had obviously been to the city, but not often, and it was especially strange that they were there when school was supposed to be in session. It wasn’t as if FP had become particularly clairvoyant and decided that he would foresee wife number 1’s death. At least, Jughead hoped not.

 

“Polly didn’t mean anything by it, Mom,” Betty said, her tone soft, and she sat down beside Alice and Jellybean (whom Jughead had noticed had crawled on to Alice’s lap). “It’s just been...hard for her to readjust.”

 

“Readjust to what?” He asked.

 

“It’s a long story,” Alice said, after a moment. “People would think we’re crazy.”

 

“Where’s Lottie?” Jellybean asked her, abandoning her coloring to stare at her pseudo-mother and pseudo-sisters. “Is she back at the hotel?”

“No,” Alice told her. “She’s with your dad,” she said, and Jughead watched as she effortlessly plaited Jellybean’s hair, tiny braid by tiny braid. He wondered if she even knew that she was doing that. “He’s talking to the...well, he’ll be out soon.” Jelly seemed to accept that. “How would you feel about living in Riverdale with us?” She asked her. “Instead of out here, in Toledo?”

 

Jughead thought that Alice did a remarkable job of hiding her disdain for the city when she asked Jellybean, the same as she was hiding her disdain for ruining her clothes by sitting on dirty floors, and he was perversely proud.

 

“Can Juggie come?” Jelly asked, gazing up at her. “Cause okay, if Juggie can come.”

“Of course,” she said. “Both of you would be coming.”

“Could we swim in your pool?”

 

“When it’s warmer out,” Alice allowed, her tone even. “It’s too cold, now, it’s going to start to snow soon.”

 

“Okay, Allie,” Jellybean agreed, always the people pleaser, when it came to wanting to make the adults in her life happy. “Can we play in the snow?”

 

“Of course, darling,” she soothed. “We can play in the snow, if you want to.”

 

“What are the two of you looking at?” She directed at the older girls, and Jughead followed Polly and Betty’s gaze to see that his father (and Lottie, who looked like she’d been bored to sleep during the conversation) had been escorted out of the conference room, and was headed towards them, a troubled look on his face.

 

“Dad,” he supplied. “They’re looking at my dad.” Alice’s face (normally perfectly composed), took on a look of brief distress, as she followed their gazes in the direction of FP and Charlotte Jones, letting Jelly scamper off her lap and barrel over to the twosome. He sighed. “Go,” he commanded. It was clear she wanted to, and Jughead didn’t need her pity. He didn’t need anyone’s pity.

 

“Mar--Polly,” she said. “You and Elizabeth, you stay with your brother.” Jughead resisted rolling his eyes at being referred to as their brother. “Jonesy and I will be right back.”

 

Betty dropped into the chair beside him, while Polly hovered. Jughead stared at her. “Whatever you think you’re doing,” he told her, crossing his arms. “It’s freaking me out. Do you need your meds adjusted?”  
  
Betty’s eyes widened.

 

“Dad said that I don’t need to take them,” Polly said, tone smooth. “I’m having trouble readjusting.”

“I was _joking_ ,” he pointed out. “What happened?”

“Oh, don’t you know? I’m crazy,” she replied. “Dad wanted to send me to the Sisters.”

 

“He _did_ ,” Betty interjected. “She was there for over two weeks.”

 

Jughead stared. “The Sisters?”

“The Sisters of Quiet Mercy,” Betty elaborated. “He told me that it was a retreat...when I told my mom she turned all _psychotic_. It was scary. I thought they were going to kill each other.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Polly said. “What happened to Gladys?”

 

Right, because what happened to Jughead and Jellybean’s mother was _definitely_ a more pleasant conversational topic than whatever the Sisters of Quiet Mercy was. But, whatever. He guessed it _could_ have been. What did he know about convents and Hal Cooper and being crazy?

 

“ODed,” he said. “In the middle of the living room, so that it was the first thing a person would see when they came into the apartment. I think she thought it would be my dad who found her.” He shrugged. “She wrote him a note,” he added. “What difference does it make?”

 

“She’s your mom,” Polly said.

 

“I know.” Jughead scowled. “What if we were here for your dad?”

It was a low blow, and Jughead knew it, but Polly’s tone had rankled him. “Dad would never,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “He’d consider it a sin, I’m sure.”

 

“Your father has some interesting opinions on sin, doesn’t he?” He snarked. “They only come into play when they make him look good in comparison?”

 

“Jug,” Betty said, through gritted teeth. “This isn’t the time.”

 

“Whatever.” He scowled. “Sorry, Polly.”

 

“It’s fine,” she said, though her tone made it clear that it -- or something -- was certainly not fine. “I understand that you’re feeling frayed right now.”

 

“See? Was that so difficult? It’s really not hard to get along,” she told the two of them, and Jughead leaned back in the seat. “We’re all going to have to do some adjusting. For Mom’s sake,” she said, directing that bit at Polly, “and for your dad’s sake, too.” That was Betty, he thought to himself, always attempting to be the peacekeeper.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” he said. “I’ll stay out of your way when we get back to Riverdale.” He sighed. “I don’t think that you’re crazy,” he added, almost as an afterthought. It would have been difficult to form an opinion on Polly Cooper’s mental state relying on the bits and pieces of time they’d spent together on school breaks and holidays. “I shouldn’t have asked if you were off your meds.”

 

Polly stared straight ahead. Her only acknowledgment of his words was a slight nod. Betty, however, gave him a relieved glance, before she affixed an unnaturally bright smile on her face. He followed her gaze to see that the adults (and Jellybean and Lottie) were headed their way. He could only imagine how fighting with Polly would look in Alice’s eyes, or his dad’s. He didn’t want to disappoint him. Especially if Polly actually _was_ sick, and it wasn’t just some delusion that Harold Cooper had come up with out of whole cloth to try to discredit his ex-wife.

 

Jughead would deny this blow to his aloof persona until the dawn of time if anyone _ever_ mentioned it to the masses in Riverdale, but _he_ was the one who initiated the hug between himself and FP, rather than his typical avoidance of affection. “It’s gonna be okay,” he heard his father say. “I promise, it’s gonna be okay.”

 

“Is she really dead?” He had to ask. Maybe Jelly had been right, and she was just in need of a blanket. Jughead knew better, but he still had to hold out hope. “Dad?”

 

“Yeah, kid. But, it will be okay,” he said. “You and Jelly are going to come home. We’ll be alright.” He cleared his throat. “I promise.”


	2. a single life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other inhabitants of the police station were staring at them -- at the excited little girl that just wanted to go swimming because she was seven and what the hell did a seven year old understand of the situation besides that she was going to live with her dad and his homewrecker of a wife, and that was if Jellybean understood the permanency of that, which Alice truthfully wasn’t sure if she did -- and Alice glowered at them. How dare they judge Jellybean because she wasn’t rending garments over the death of her mother?

Alice Jones was not an oblivious woman, and she had noticed the tension between Polly and Jughead from the moment she and FP had come over to the seats that Jughead had sequestered himself in, but she bit her tongue and stopped herself from giving the two of them a lecture about how it was wrong to be fighting about...whatever it was that they were fighting about. Honestly, with the way Polly was acting lately, it could have been about literally anything.

 

“I think that we should all head back to the hotel,” she suggested, hoping her exhaustion wasn’t evident in her voice. “We can head back the hotel and try to get some sleep...and in the morning we can go to the apartment and get Jughead and Jellybean’s stuff.”

 

“Will we all fit in the hotel?” FP asked, and she shrugged her shoulders. “Where are we going to sleep? Do you think that suite is big enough?”

 

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be,” she said softly. “Jellybean and Charlotte can bunk in with the girls, and Jughead can take the bed that’s in our room. It’s not ideal, but…” She gave Polly a warning glare, not wanting to hear a single word out of her.

 

“You said we were going to go to Riverdale,” Jellybean interjected, a pout gracing her features. “I don’t wanna go back to the apartment.”  


“We’re gonna go back to Riverdale,” FP promised her. “I just...I’m tired, Jelly,” he said. “It’s been a long day, okay, bean? For all of us.”

 

“Maybe we can go to the pool in the morning,” Polly suggested. “You want to go swimming, right?”

 

While Alice frowned upon Polly manipulating Jellybean as a general principle, and vowed to stop it if it continued, she was exhausted. And FP certainly couldn’t drive them back home in his state. In fact, Alice was tempted to convince him to ship everything back to Riverdale what couldn’t be brought with them on a plane. She was sure they could return the rental car to the airport.

 

“I don’t have a bathing suit,” Jelly said, frowning. “Not even at the apartment. Just in Riverdale.”

 

“Lottie will share with you,” she said. “If you want to go in. Okay?” The seven year old girl, who looked so much like Gladys Jones it was sort of horrifying on such little sleep, barreled into Alice’s legs, giving her a tight hug. She gently picked her up, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You like that idea, honey?”

 

“Yeah, Allie,” she chirped. “I wanna go swimming.”

 

The other inhabitants of the police station were staring at them -- at the excited little girl that just wanted to go swimming because she was _seven_ and what the hell did a seven year old understand of the situation besides that she was going to live with her dad and his homewrecker of a wife, and that was if Jellybean understood the permanency of that, which Alice truthfully wasn’t sure if she did -- and Alice glowered at them. How dare they judge Jellybean because she wasn’t rending garments over the death of her mother?

 

“Well, we’ll have to go swimming, then,” she told her, ruffling her hair. “For now…why don’t we go back to the hotel and sleep?”

 

“Will you carry me?” Jelly asked, considering what she was clearly viewing as a proposition and not a sweetly phrased decree. Alice hesitated -- surely Jellybean was old enough to walk? But, the girl’s mother _was_ dead, regardless of how much she understood or how much Alice had despised the woman.

 

“If that’s what you want,” she allowed. “I don’t see that being a problem.”

 

It was a sobered walk back to where she and FP had parked the station wagon that they had rented, and she had clutched his hand the entire time, less so to offer comfort, but more because her husband had noticed the people (including _members of the police force_ ) staring at their family, and, while Jonesy had improved on most of his old proclivities...Alice really didn’t want to have to bail him out of jail because her children needed a father and their only choice had snapped and knocked out a policeman. So, if it looked like she was comforting her husband because his ex-wife had died, and not sparing them all from his potential explosion, she was willing to allow this delusion to continue.

 

The older girls and Jughead walked ahead of them, Elizabeth and Margaret ranking Jughead on either side. She and FP each held Jellybean and Lottie, respectively. He had offered to take Jellybean from her, but the little girl had protested, and Alice had decided that it was alright -- she could hold Jelly if that's what she wanted.

 

“What’s going to happen?” Alice asked.

 

“They’re going to try to contact her mother,” he said. “I told them that the kids were too young to be in charge of...whatever this is, and I wasn’t going to be a party to forcing them to stay in Toledo.” He sighed. “That cop said we could just take them home.”

 

“Her mother is still alive?” She asked.

 

“Who knows?” FP asked, shrugging his shoulders. “I wasn’t going to have my 13 year old and my 7 year old planning their drug addict mother’s _funeral_ , okay? Or have them hanging around here while they tried to settle an estate I doubt very much exists.”   


“I know, honey,” she said. “I wasn’t going to suggest that.”  


“I don’t understand, Al,” he said, his voice low (Jellybean and Lottie had fallen asleep, but there was always the chance they were being listened in on by one of the others). “I gave her all that money. Every month. For _them_ . Look at them. What the hell happened?”   


“I don’t think we’ll ever understand,” she settled on. “At least they’re safe,” she sighed. “That’s the important thing, Jonesy.”

 

“You’re sure they’re safe?” He asked. “We’re taking them back to Riverdale, Alice, not _Disneyworld_.”

 

“We should take them there,” she decided. “Once things settle down, and they get used to the reality of the situation.”

 

“You want to go to _Disney_?” FP sounded shocked.

 

“Oh, absolutely not,” she told him. “But for the children, I am willing to tolerate it.” He leaned over and placed a kiss on her lips.

 

“You’re a good mom, Al,” he whispered. “I know you don’t think so, but I do.”

 

“Thanks, Jonesy,” she murmured. “I try, I guess.”

 

“No, no guessing,” he whispered. “You are.” The moment was over as soon as it began, as they had arrived at the car. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll let you order room service, bud.”

 

Jughead’s head snapped up, and Alice saw a ghost of a smile on his face. “Whatever I want?”  
  
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Whatever the three of you want.”

  


***

  


“Mom,” the voice said insistently, sounding like it was from the outside world, rather than a confusion addition to the dream she was having, and Alice forced herself to fight against her sleeping pill to open her eyes, faced with a hazy Elizabeth. “Mom,” she repeated, as Alice tried to wake up, or at least...sort of wake up.

 

“What is it?” She queried. “Elizabeth?” Beside her in bed, FP let out a loud snore. “Is everything alright?”

 

Wasn’t it typical of one of her daughters to default to waking _her_ up instead of their stepfather, who didn’t have to rely on a sedative to get something that resembled a decent night’s sleep? Alice groused inwardly, sitting up in bed, slipping on her glasses so she could see her child clearly. Elizabeth looked like she was near tears, and she felt guilty for berating her, even if it was only in her mind.

 

“Jughead’s crying, Mom,” she fretted.

 

Jughead had fallen asleep in the girls’ room, and Alice and FP hadn’t had the heart to move him, at least, that was what the awake part of her brain, the part she could never turn off, was telling her. The part of her mind that wanted to sleep protested deeply at the interruption.

 

“He wants me?” She mumbled, confused. “Not his dad?”

 

“He said he wants to be left alone,” she corrected. “But he sounds so sad, Mom. I can’t just let him cry all night. And what if he wakes up Polly? You know how she can get.”

 

“Oh, Lord, Elizabeth,” she muttered. Even her sleeping pill couldn’t mute her lack of desire to be woken up by an irate Polly Cooper. Her and the rest of their floor on the hotel, knowing Alice’s luck. “Fine, I’m coming.”

 

“Are you decent?” Betty asked, and Alice stared at her. “It’s a question, Mom.”

 

“Yes,” she sighed. “And if I wasn’t I would _remedy_ that before going to console a _thirteen year old boy_.”

 

FP let out a moan as she slipped out of his arms, and she waited a moment to make sure that he stayed asleep, satisfied when he snuggled back into the pillows. It was tempting to wake him up, but she was going to be merciful. No one couldn’t say she wasn’t capable of doing so.

 

And, yes, she _was_ decent, thank you very much. Though she would never leave the hotel room clad in them, the t-shirt and boxers she had co-opted from her husband were suitable for consoling family members.

 

“Jughead,” she said softly, dropping down on the bed that FP had placed him in when he’d fallen asleep on the floor of the room. She glanced quickly at the bed where Polly laid, relieved when it looked like the girl was still sleeping. Betty hovered, and she nodded in the direction of the bed, having a conversation about _pride_ with her eyes. She had a feeling Jughead would be less humiliated if it appeared she had been the one to find him crying. She watched Elizabeth climb back into bed, while she cautiously placed a hand on Jughead’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”   


“Why did she do it?” He asked. “I will never understand.”

 

“I don’t know, honey,” she whispered. “I don’t think that...sometimes, we’re not meant to understand,” she said. “Sometimes things happen, and we have to move on. Go forward.” She sighed. “I think this is one of those times.”

 

“She could have waited until we left,” he mumbled. “Or waited until Jelly was asleep. Now she’ll be so fu-screwed up when she figures out why we left.”  
  
“Your original word choice worked,” she said smoothly. It was late at night and Alice was medicated to the gills and she was just going to let Jughead’s curse word slide. No one else was awake to hear it (or if they were they were Elizabeth, who could be scandalized but wasn’t too young to be exposed to it), and she was tired of applying airs to every situation. “Your mother had issues,” she settled on, running a hand through her hair, the other remaining on Jughead’s shoulder. “I think it’s safe to say we all have issues,” she allowed. “She was never able to get past the issues that she had.”   


“You’re perfect,” he mumbled. “Dad loves you.”

 

“I’m not perfect, Jughead.” She heard him scoff. “Honestly, I’m really not.”

 

“Maybe you’re not,” he allowed. “You’re not the one who offed herself and let her seven year old be the one to find her, though.”  


“That’s true,” Alice allowed. “Which brings us back to the fact that your mother had issues. Maybe she snapped, I don’t know. I don’t have an answer for this, Jug.” She felt that she was being harsh, so she dipped her head to press a kiss on her stepson’s forehead. “I wish I did have the answers,” she added softly. “I wish that more than anything. You have to believe that.”

 

“Will you stay with me?” He asked. “Just until I fall asleep.”  


“If you think it will help,” she murmured. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

 

“Are you sure?” Brown eyes peered up at aquamarine, and she nodded.

 

“Sure,” she said. “If you think it will help.”

 

Alice had meant to only stay until Jughead had drifted off. It was the maternal thing to do, wasn’t it? No matter how much being a mother to Jughead reminded her of what she and FP had given up all those years ago. She just...the medication was potent, and she was running on sheer adrenaline, and...somehow, she’d fallen asleep.

 

“There you are,” she heard FP say, as if he was in the midst of her dream, and she felt him scoop her up in his arms. “Come back to bed, Ally,” he murmured. “It will be okay in the morning.”

 

Alice knew -- even in dreams -- that FP was lying. When was the last time things had been okay? For any of them?

 

And now Gladys was dead.


	3. ...or just look like one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty didn’t think that FP was a hoodlum, anyways. She knew that he and Mom were the King and Queen of the Southside Serpents (another thing that Dad just couldn’t help judging them on), but she didn’t really see why that mattered. There may have been some seedy elements to the gang at some point, she supposed, but even the new Sheriff (he had a son that was in Betty’s class) and Mayor McCoy were impressed about how well the Southside had been ‘cleaned up’. FP was nice to her, anyways. Even if Dad didn’t like him.

It was by mutual unspoken agreement that none of the involved parties of the previous evening mentioned what had happened out loud. Betty had taken one look at Jughead’s miserable expression as he’d locked his eyes on her and on her mom, and she had made the decision for the lot of them. What was another secret between family, after all? She was a Cooper, and they lived for their precious secrets. Alice and FP had some bizarre commitment to no secrets and no lies (when Dad had heard that he had gone for the whiskey and told Betty that secrets were for people’s protection, and did she and Polly want to end up like Mom and that hoodlum?), but even her mother seemed content to leave things as they were. 

 

Betty didn’t think that FP was a hoodlum, anyways. She knew that he and Mom were the King and Queen of the Southside Serpents (another thing that Dad just couldn’t help judging them on), but she didn’t really see why that mattered. There may have been some seedy elements to the gang at some point, she supposed, but even the new Sheriff (he had a son that was in Betty’s class) and Mayor McCoy were impressed about how well the Southside had been ‘cleaned up’. FP was nice to her, anyways. Even if Dad didn’t like him. 

 

It had been awkward becoming Jughead’s stepsister, at least at first. She had missed her friend (her only friend that really shared her love of reading and mysteries) who had had to leave school in the middle of the semester to move out of state, and she had been very confused when she came home from school one day to hear that her parents were getting a divorce, and that Dad was keeping the house but Mom was keeping the kids and the Register. Not that that stopped Dad from insisting on still working there. Betty thought it was a sign of hope at the time (Dad will forgive Mom eventually, he’s still working with her, Polly insisted); but now she viewed it as another way her father could continue to exert control over his ex-wife. Mom was  _ pregnant _ , so why would Dad leave her? Betty had asked her mother that question incessantly. And Jughead was gone, and Archie couldn’t be bothered to care about her real life mystery (and they no longer lived next door to each other, so playing with Archie was something that only happened when she had her visitation with her dad, or at school, or when Mom felt well enough to tolerate the red-headed boy in her house; while Polly was too  _ mature _ to care why Mom was pregnant-and-divorced and why Dad didn’t seem to care about the baby at  _ all _ . 

 

Her mom had been  _ so sad _ and the letters that showed up daily from the rehabilitation center in Greendale had been the  _ only _ things that Betty had seen cheer her up. Not that Alice had let her  _ read  _ them, of course she hadn’t. And if Betty had snuck into her mom’s room to read the letters when Alice was otherwise occupied? That was still her little secret. The letters had been from a man named Jonesy, who called her mom Al, and who (at least in Betty’s childlike opinion) seemed to like her entirely more than Dad ever had, even before the fighting and the divorce. 

 

She’d managed to figure out that it was  _ Jonesy  _ that was the father of Betty and Polly’s younger brother or sister, rather than Hal Cooper, but she didn’t have the faintest idea who he  _ was _ . All Betty knew was that he made her mom happy, even though he wasn’t physically there. 

 

Finding FP Jones on their front porch one day after her ballet class had been a shock, especially since given the last time Betty had seen Jughead’s dad, he had been passed out on the couch of his trailer. This version of Mr. Jones seemed alert, and happy to see them. Well, happy to see Mom, at least. Mom had whispered something in his ear that had caused Polly (who was older and knew more things that Mom and Dad said Betty was too young to know of) to blush a deep shade of red (Betty hadn’t understood why Mom being frustrated had been something for Polly to be embarrassed about), but Mr. Jones had pulled her close, a cautious hand settling on the barely-visible bump that Dad had ensured was the talk of the town. 

 

Betty remembered asking if he liked the baby (a question that had gotten the day’s copy of the Register thrown at her when she’d asked her dad), and had been satisfied by his answering in the affirmative, and his offer to take them to Pops. Betty loved Pops. 

 

Jughead and Jellybean had been allowed to stay with the Cooper-Joneses during school vacations and holiday weekends, which was typically when Hal’s decision to be seen as a semi-competent parent reared its ugly head. Her relationship with Jughead was mostly unaffected -- they had been friends before his dad had knocked up her mom, after all -- but the relationship that Polly had with Jughead and Jellybean (and vice versa, Betty had noticed, especially in the case of Jughead) was particularly fraught. 

 

Polly’s relationship with  _ everyone _ had been fraught lately. It was getting tired. 

 

But, Jughead hadn’t said a word about his breakdown the previous evening, and everyone else seemed to be following his lead. There was part of her that thought it should be spoken about (didn’t FP deserve to know that Jughead was upset about what had happened?), but that was largely overruled by her desire to keep the peace. 

 

“Can we go swimming  _ now _ ?” Jellybean demanded, breaking the silence. “Daddy, you and Ally  _ promised _ we could go in the pool.”   
  


“You don’t want to go back to your house and get your stuff?” He replied. The younger girl shook her head. “Jelly, but we have to.”

 

“Can’t we go after?”

 

“I don’t see the harm in going swimming, FP,” her mother interjected. “We did promise.” 

 

“I can go with you, Dad,” Jughead added. “I don’t want to go swimming. It’s probably better for Jellybean to not go.”

 

Betty could see FP wavering, and she decided to intercede. “You can take both of us, FP,” she said, crossing the room to where he and her mother were, making sure her winning smile was plastered on her face. “Mom and Polly can go swimming with Jellybean and Lottie,” she continued. “And I could go with you and Jughead so you have some company. Does that sound okay?”

 

“I don’t see anything wrong with your plan, Elizabeth,” Alice Jones said after a moment. “I think it’s kind of you to volunteer to go with Jughead and Jonesy,” she continued. “And...I think that Jughead is right that Jellybean is better off being spared... _ that _ . I’ll go swimming with the girls and settle things up here, so we can just go home after.” Betty knew that the last part of her comment was directed to FP, but she was pleased to be a help nonetheless. 

 

While their parents were having a conversation with their eyes, Betty decided to approach Jughead. 

 

“Are you okay with me going with you and your dad to your old apartment?” She asked him quietly, sitting on the edge of the desk he was sitting in front of. “Because, I can just stay here, if you want it to be just the two of you.”   
  


“You can come if you want,” he said. “Just you, though. Not Polly.”

 

“I understand,” she said, because she did understand, even though it was hard to put into words what exactly she understood. “Polly...she’s really hurting. My dad and his new girlfriend...they  _ broke  _ her.” She sighed. “I think she was probably already broken. But you don’t need to deal with that right now.” 

 

“Who’s dating your  _ dad _ ?” Jughead’s tone was of utter disbelief, that someone would want to date Hal Cooper seemed downright laughable to him. “What the hell, Betts?”   
  


“I know,” she said. “Her name is Penelope. They’re like two peas in a pod.”

 

“Did your mom really almost kill him?” Jughead asked. “You said she went psychotic.”

 

“She threw a brick at him,” she reported. “Your dad, he wouldn’t let her kill him, but I think she wanted to.” 

 

The gaze that Jughead shot her (oblivious) mother was one of complete adoration. 

 

“Maybe she’ll do it again,” he mused hopefully. “That would cheer me up. If I could see it.” Jughead’s tone was downright wistful. “How did you get to come here?”   
  


“His visitation rights were rescinded,” she said. “Probably for good.” She sighed. “DId you want to talk about your mom?”

 

“What’s there to talk about? She took me away from my dad because she held a petty, jealous, grudge over him picking your mother over her,” he said. “My dad, who managed to clean up his act and turn into a fairly decent person. And some fucked up judge picked  _ her _ over him. Why? Because he got your mom pregnant? That’s a bullshit reason.” He sighed. “I just wish that this had happened sooner, so that Jelly and I might have had a chance.”   
  


“You still have a chance,” she said, trying to soothe him. 

 

“Come on, Betts,” he whispered. “We know I don’t fit in in Riverdale, in that life that your Mom’s built for the rest of you. Everyone on your street is going to look at me and think I’m a freak. Whether it’s because of who I am or what I stand for or why I wear this  _ hat _ .” She watched him tug down on the beanie. “They’ll think I’m a freak,” he repeated.

 

“I don’t think they will,” she assured him. “Why do you think that? They’re just hearing aids, Juggie.”

 

“Mom told me that they would,” he admitted. “I thought maybe she wasn’t wrong.”

 

Betty frowned. “She  _ was _ wrong, Juggie. I promise she was.” 

 

“I--” Jughead lapsed into silence, and she noticed that her stepfather was approaching them, so, for Jughead’s sake, she went along with his plan of terminating their conversation. “Hey, Dad.”

 

“Hi, FP.” She slipped off the desk, not wanting to have such a simple thing be the straw that upset the very delicate apple cart that was her mother’s grip on reasonable behaviors and reactions. “Mom.”

 

“Thank you for going with them,” Alice said to her. “That’s very mature of you, Elizabeth. I’m so proud of you.” 

 

“You don’t have to be proud, Mom,” she insisted. “I want to. It’s important to me.”

 

“I know it is,” she whispered. “Thank you, honey.” She gave her a kiss on the forehead, before shocking her with an impossibly tight hug. Betty briefly contemplated demanding to know if Alice had bothered to take her meds this morning, before resigning herself to the fact that it was a stressful time for everyone, and no one could accuse Alice Jones nee Cooper nee Smith of dealing with stress in anything vaguely resembling a productive manner. 

 

“Al, you think you could let the kid breathe?” FP asked, his tone purposely light. “She’s a teenager, not a squeeze toy.” As if she had been unaware that she’d been squishing Elizabeth, her mother moved away from her, as if she was on fire. “Come on, Betty,” he commanded. “We need to get going.”

 

Betty knew that the gruff tone was part of the persona that her stepfather wore when he was trying to pretend he wasn’t affected by whatever situation was occurring that he was actually affected by, and she stepped back, grabbing her purse as her mother did...whatever she did to calm FP down, aware of the utter irony of that as a concept. Whatever issues the two of them shared, they seemed to balance each other out. It was a refreshing contrast to whenever anyone had the misfortune to be in a 20 mile radius of Alice dealing with Hal. 

 

“You’re gonna have fun with Alice,” she heard him say, directing his comment to Jellybean. “I can’t wait to hear about it. You’ll be good, won’t you?”

 

“I’m always good, Daddy. Are we really going to get to fly on a plane?” FP answered ‘yes’. Jughead glanced at Betty. Betty glanced at her mother. And Alice tried very hard to pretend she wasn’t being stared at by both of the thirteen year olds. 

 

“I thought you hated flying,” Jughead said. “It was like...your white whale, or something?”

 

“Do you want to be in a car with everyone for 9 hours?” Her mother replied. Jughead blanched. “I didn’t think so.” She leaned over and pressed her lips to his forehead, leaving the ghost of ruby red lipstick there when she pulled away. “Be good, honey,” she said. “Let your dad and Betty help you. They don’t want you to have to do it alone.”

  
  


***

 

“Thanks again for coming with us,” FP said to Betty, mainly in an attempt to acknowledge the fact that his step daughter had elected to come clean out the apartment of a woman she’d barely known, instead of taking the easy route and going swimming with everyone else. “You could have stayed at the hotel.” 

 

Jughead had turned off his hearing aids and fallen soundly asleep in the backseat of the rental, and he had decided to leave the kid to it. There were battles that FP chose to fight with his children, and he was not going to have forcing Jughead to be social when he was clearly exhausted be on that list of disagreements. 

 

Betty had decided to ride shotgun, whether out of a sense of obligation or because she actually thought he was worthy of her company, he wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to be rude. He knew he was lucky that Alice’s daughters liked him at all. He wouldn’t have blamed Betty if she treated him more like Polly did, with aloof disinterest, until his favor of her was needed in the eternal battle of Margaret Cooper vs. Alice Jones. But, Betty had never treated him like that. Not even when he’d first arrived in their lives as a potential father-figure, rather than just Mr. Jones, Jughead’s screw up of a dad. 

 

“I didn’t want you and Jug to go alone,” she said. “I didn’t think it needed to be a big  _ family _ thing, either, and I was afraid it would head there if Jellybean had kept whining about going to the pool without an alternative being presented.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Besides, I know Jughead doesn’t like to swim. Because of his hearing.”

 

“You’re a good kid, Betty,” he said, and he reached over to squeeze her knee. “I’m sorry that you and your sisters got dragged into this,” he admitted. “I should have known better than to assume it would be a simple custody switch.” 

 

“I don’t mind,” she said. “I wish that Gladys hadn’t died, of course, but I’m glad that you had my mom here for support, and that Juggie and Jellybean had us to...sort of distract them.”

 

FP had heard her hesitation on using Gladys’s name, and he sensed that she had had to mentally replace ‘Mrs. Jones’ with her given name, because, of course, Gladys had made no overtures to either her children’s stepsiblings, or their half sibling, so Betty and Polly’s relationship with the woman had been arrested in that tenuous period of time that he’d been married to Gladys and Alice had been married to Hal, and their children had been friends. Or, well, Betty and Jug had been friends. Polly had sort of tolerated them. 

 

“I love your mom,” he said. “I wish that your father and their mother didn’t consider that such a horrible, horrendous, thing. I don’t think Gladys ever got over it.” He sighed. “And we know how your father is. But, I love your mom, more than anything. You know that, right?”

 

“I know,” she confirmed. “I think anyone with eyes knows, FP.” 

 

“I don’t regret how Charlotte happened,” he added. “I regret how the aftermath happened. Every single day of my life I regret that.”

 

“None of that is your fault,” she said. “We do the best we can do with the information we have at the time.”

 

Logically, FP supposed he knew that, but...well, what could he say? That he’d known that her father was crazy and that his wife was a drug addict and that hooking up with Alice on the side when they both got drunk and lonely had been a stupid as fuck idea, but that instead of thinking with his brain ever, FP had yet again thought with a lower part of his anatomy? Those things were true in a logical sense, but, when it came to Alice, he had rarely, if ever, been logical. Impulsive, would be the better word, he supposed. 

 

Alice had been lonely. He’d been lonely. No, that wasn’t true. He’d loved Alice, even at his most screwed up, and he wasn’t going to discount those feelings just because it was what people had expected of him. He wasn’t going to not be there for their baby. He’d gone down that route once before. 

 

Sometimes, FP thought about Charles. He wondered what he was like, whether he’d been adopted by a nice family, if he knew anything about him and Alice. He figured that the kid would be disappointed if they ever met, so he’d never even asked Alice if it was a possibility. What difference did it make in the end?

 

Maybe, someday, Charles would seek them out. He thought he’d be okay with that.

 

“I could have done better with that information,” he admitted. 

 

“I never thought you did a bad job,” she said. “You made my mom happy again,” she pointed out, and he glanced over at her for a moment, before returning his eyes to the road. “I don’t remember her being happy for a long time before you came home.”

 

“I try to make her happy.”

 

“You do, FP,” Betty said, her tone an assuring one, and he saw the bounce of her ponytail in the corner of his eye. “Trust me.”

 

The baby had been a girl, the second time around, and, when Alice had asked if they could name the baby -- their daughter -- after Charles, well, FP (who had two children named after him, thank you very much) had thought the request was perfectly reasonable. He had already taken Alice away from her seemingly-charmed Northside life, the least he could do was make an honest woman out of her before little Charlotte arrived (she had insisted that he didn’t  _ have _ to marry her, that she understood that he might not want to be permanently tied to her, but, in FP’s eyes he had always been permanently tied into Alice Smith, so what the fuck difference did a wedding make?), and he had managed to do so. He’d sobered up, and he’d done his best to do things properly, both for his new family, with Alice and their (her) children, and for Jughead and Jellybean, who may have been 9 hours away, but who were constantly on his mind.

 

Lottie was doted on by her older siblings. 

 

(Yes, Lottie. Betty and Polly had insisted.)

 

“I know she does,” he said. “Not sure about many things in life, but I know she loves me. That’s one thing I’m damn sure of.” He parked the car in front of the shit triple decker that Gladys had called home, wincing at the condition of the place his children had lived the majority of their time. The trailer they’d all lived in before the divorce had not looked like that, even though he spent the majority of his time trashing it. He glanced briefly at Betty. “Uh, you don’t have to come in, if you don’t want. I won’t tell Alice.”

 

“I told Jughead I would help you guys,” she said. “This doesn’t change anything.” 

 

“If you’re sure,” he said cautiously, taken aback when Betty leaned over to give him a hug. 

 

“It’s okay, FP,” she murmured. “I know you’re just trying to be protective. Of Jughead and stuff. If you want me to wait out here, I will.”

 

“Betty,” he said. “I know you’re not my kid, but you know that I’m trying to protect you, too, right? You’re like my daughter.” She nodded. “I know I don’t...go around things the best of ways sometimes, but you should know that.”

 

“I know,” she promised, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “You treat me better than my own dad does. You’re a good stepdad.”

 

“Yeah, that’s cause Hal Cooper sucks,” he muttered. “But, uh, thanks, kid.” 

 

FP remembered how Betty Cooper had been the first of Alice’s daughters to welcome him into their lives with open arms, even before he had bribed the twosome with trips to Pops and orange freezes. Okay, they hadn’t really been bribes, he supposed, more like he felt that after drying out, taking Alice’s children (and Alice) out to dinner every evening was the least he could do. Lottie had made Alice practically out eat him at the diner. And it had been nice to have dinner as a family, even though FP was sure that Cooper would explode into a million pompous bits if he realized FP considered Betty and Polly to be his family. But, before, on Alice’s front porch, as he tried to process the really  _ fuckin’ _ obvious (that he was gonna be a dad again, and if he told Alice how huge she was because he thought it was cool, she would probably roundhouse kick him, pregnant or not), there had been little Elizabeth asking him if he loved the baby. He’d bit back his immediate response of ‘fuck yeah’ (Alice would have murdered him if he taught Elizabeth curses), deciding to simply agree, his answer getting a happy grin off the girl, and a giant hug. 

 

Polly’s acceptance of him came later, after Alice had had Lottie, and he still wondered if it was more of an acceptance of Lottie than him.

 

“You’re welcome,” she chirped. “Should we wake up Jug?” 

 

“Sounds like a plan to me.” He wanted to get out of there, and leave the entire city behind.


	4. hysteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now really isn’t the time for your bullshit, Polly,” he heard Alice say. He had been planning on saying ‘could you be quiet’, but typical Alice going for the direct route, unfortunately for the rest of the plane, her tone was rising with each word. “Shut up and be quiet for the rest of the flight, or I will make you sit beside me and hold my hand and tell me we’re not going to crash into the side of a fucking building, my God . God grant me--”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” FP asked Alice softly, shifting the armrest up that was between them, looping his arm around her shoulders. He had flown during his time in the Army, and he had taken Jelly and Jughead on planes between Ohio and New York before, but never with Alice. Alice didn’t like flying, and he really didn’t see the point in forcing her to do so. “Maybe you’d feel better if you had a drink?” He suggested.

 

The kids had the entire row of seats behind them, and one of them (FP didn’t know who, but it did not amuse him) was already kicking the back of his seat. Beside him, Alice sat ramrod straight, and her hands were clenching his tightly.

 

“Come on, Allie,” he whispered softly. “I think it would help. Have a drink, take your pills, have a good night’s sleep? When you wake up the flight will be over.”

 

And the other people in the plane wouldn’t think that she was being taken against her will. He did notice people staring.

 

“Fine,” she said, after a moment. “Promise me you won’t, though, honey. You have to promise.”

 

For the most part, FP Jones hadn’t had a drink since he found out that he was going to be a dad again for the third (fourth, he supposed, not that he was really sure that Charles counted, he definitely didn’t think that he and Alice counted for Charles) time. Just occasional drinks, here and there, on special occasions, always under his wife’s watchful eye. There was no real need for Alice to worry. He wasn’t seduced by the thought of watered down alcohol in plastic cups. But, he knew that she was scared of the plane, of flying, and he felt that promising was the least he could do.

 

“Of course, I promise,” he replied, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’ll give you the world, baby girl, if you’ll just have me. I would never want to do anything to hurt you, or hurt our family.”

 

“I know,” she breathed. “I know, darling.” She drew in a deep breath. “Can you check on the kids?”

  


Alice had an absolute death grip on his hands, how the hell was he supposed to check on the kids? He could barely move without accidentally toppling her over. He decided to crane his head over his shoulder. At least he could figure out who was kicking his seat.

 

“What are you guys doing?” He asked. Typically, no one answered him, or even bothered to acknowledge he was speaking. Jelly and Lottie appeared to be coloring with each other, while Polly, who he was pretty sure was the seat kicker (she was sitting behind him, after all, he too had ‘observational skills’ like Alice always claimed were important), was flipping through a magazine, her headphones in her ears. Jughead and Betty, who were in the seats across the aisle from them, were deeply engrossed in what looked like another manuscript of Jughead’s. “You guys okay?”

 

“Yes, Daddy,” Lottie bubbled, looking way too happy to be sitting with two of her older sisters. “Can we have candy?”

 

“Maybe,” he said, noncommittally. “We’ll see.”

 

“That means no,” Polly informed her, barely gazing up from her magazine. “That’s parent talk for leave me alone.”

 

“Now really isn’t the time for your bullshit, Polly,” he heard Alice say. He had been planning on saying ‘could you be quiet’, but typical Alice going for the direct route, unfortunately for the rest of the plane, her tone was rising with each word. “Shut up and be quiet for the rest of the flight, or I will make _you_ sit beside me and hold my hand and tell me we’re not going to _crash into the side of a fucking building, my God_. God grant me--”

 

“You’re still on about that?” Polly asked. “It was just a little breaking news coverage.”

 

“Your mother said she wanted you to be quiet, Margaret,” FP said, a slight growl to his tone. “Maybe you should ask daddy dearest why he was so insistent on the Register having a voice in that particular instant?”

 

“He thought we could get a Pulitzer,” Alice muttered. “I was stupid. I thought I could handle it. Why are people looking at us?”

 

“You did loudly --”

 

“They think you’re _crazy_ , Mom,” Polly decided to interject. “Unable to handle a four hour flight?”

 

Alice relinquished her death grip on FP’s hands, allowing him to lean over the seat to address his older step-daughter directly. He even thought there was a potential for regaining circulation, and even feeling.

 

“Listen to me, little lady,” he said. “I get that you’re all pissed off we wouldn’t leave you at home so you could do whatever it is you and Jason Blossom do together, but your mother is not some sort of punching bag for you. Why don’t you just be quiet for the next four hours, so everyone on the flight doesn’t end up wanting to sue us? I mean, I would say you should do it because your mom is upset, but I wouldn’t want to burden you.”

 

“I’ll be quiet,” Polly murmured.   


“You’d better be,” he said. “I don’t care what you think about me, but would it kill you to try to set a good example for your siblings? And not set off your mom because she doesn’t like your boyfriend?” Alice was crying softly beside him.

 

“Fine,” Polly said. “Whatever, FP. Sorry, Mom.”

 

Satisfied with his lecture, FP resumed his position, taking a napkin from his jacket pocket and dabbing Alice’s tears away with as much care as he could possibly manage.

 

“Take it off,” she commanded, and his mind went into the gutter, immediately wondering if Alice had lost her mind and thought joining the mile high club would be a good distraction from the act of being flown in a plane. He really did not think that was a good idea, tempting though it was, there were the kids to consider. They’d probably prefer not seeing him and Alice hump like bunnies. And he certainly wasn’t going to suggest they do it in the airplane bathroom. Alice may have abandoned most of her Northside propriety, but even he didn’t think that was very sanitary. Still, she was tugging at his coat.   


“What?” He asked. “Take what off?”  


“I was thinking that I would feel better if we cuddled under this,” she whispered. “Maybe we could nap together.” He slipped out of the jacket, draping it over the two of them, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling closer. “It smells like you,” she added.

 

“Of course it does, babe,” he said, tone cocky. “I wear it all the time.” It was his Serpent jacket, after all. “Does that make you feel better?”

 

“Yeah. Of course it does.” Alice was still shaking, but less than she had been before. And no one was staring at them, daring to get punched in the face if they said one wrong word to his wife. “You always make me feel better, Jonesy.”

  


***

  


That red-haired boy was sitting on her porch, Alice noticed with eagle eyes, her commitment to causing trouble only enhanced by the alcohol and xanax she’d consumed on the flight home to make it anything resembling bearable, and her aggravation at Polly’s _boyfriend_ growing. No, despite the similar appearances, Alice was not having the good fortune of that idiot friend of Betty and Jughead’s showing up at the house. She was eye to eye with Jason Blossom. And he was going to die.

 

“Margaret Cooper,” Alice hissed, peering into the backseat of her station wagon, where Polly had piled in beside Lottie and Jelly, her blonde daughter the picture of innocence. “What is that _boy_ doing here?” In the driver’s seat, FP groaned.

 

“You said I wasn’t allowed to see Dad,” Polly said, in a tone that made it clear she thought that Alice was overreacting again. Alice was so damn tired of her thinking that she was _overreacting_ when she was doing what was _best_ for her children. “You said nothing about not seeing Jason.”   


“Jason’s _mother_ is dating your _father_ !” Alice exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind? Your father sent you away to that _horrible place_ and you think that you should keep seeing that _boy_?”

 

“Funny,” Polly said. “You went to the Sisters, too. Didn’t you…? And you stayed with the person who sent you there. Didn’t you?”  


“I won’t have you speaking to your mother like that,” FP interjected, his hand reaching out for hers. “You need to apologize to her, _now_ .” Alice started to cry, turning away from Polly so she wouldn’t see her reaction, but Polly’s reaction must have been unpleasant to FP, because he continued to chastise her. “And apologize for _that_ , too. What the hell is your _problem_ , Polly?”   


“She’s my problem,” Polly said. “She thinks that Jason is like his mom, or like my dad, and he’s _not_ . Maybe the Sisters could have helped me like Dad thought it would, but instead she got _pissed_ and pulled me out because she thinks that they screwed her up back in the _90s_ . How did they screw you up, anyways, Mom? Making you give Charles up? What the hell else could you have done?”   


“Shut up, Margaret,” she managed to say, clutching FP’s hand hard enough that her knuckles were white. “You have _no idea_ what they’re capable of there. None.”

 

“Just like you have no idea what Jason is like,” Polly said, her tone smooth. “You don’t bother to get to know him, because you don’t like Dad and Penelope Blossom dating, so you take it out on her children. Because you’re a control freak.”  


“I don’t need to know what Jason is like,” Alice said, her tone as cold as ice. “I know what boys like that do to girls like us, Margaret. I lived that kind of life for too long to want it for you.” She sighed. “Do whatever you want. I’m tired of having this same _fucking_ fight with you.”

 

Maybe Jason Blossom wasn’t evil, it was true that Alice hadn’t actually ever directly interacted with _that boy_ , content to avoid any reminders of her ex-husband if at all possible, including the children of his new girlfriend (was anyone _besides_ her weirded out by the fact that Clifford Blossom _looked_ sort of like Hal? Apparently not). But, honestly, Alice didn’t really care. She was tired of this phase of Polly’s. So fucking damn tired.

 

“Al,” FP murmured, and she felt his fingers card through her hair. “You don’t…”

 

“What?” She asked. “She doesn’t believe me, so how else will she learn?” She raised her voice, noticing that Polly was still _sitting_ there, an expression of disbelief on her face. “Go, Margaret. Have fun with your Blossom boyfriend.”

 

“Maybe if you _met_ Jason --”

 

“Is that what you want?” Alice asked, her tone appearing to be polite, but it contained an edge. “What do you want from us? Should we invite Jason and that sister of his over for a family dinner? Is that what you want?” Polly nodded. “Whatever, Margaret. Invite them over. But if you think I’m letting your father or that horrible woman that birthed them into my house...you have another thing coming. Now, get out of the car,” she said. “Before I have FP do something you’ll regret, like have him run Jason over.”

 

Polly scrambled out of the car. Alice released FP’s hand, wincing when she saw the marks her nails had left in his skin. She drew in a deep breath.

 

“I would’ve,” her husband whispered in her ear. “Run him over. I would have done anything for you, Allie.”

 

“He’s not worth the trouble,” she muttered. “Polly will see sense, eventually. I know she will.” She pressed a kiss to FP’s hand. “Thank you, though. For all you’ve ever done for me.”

 

“You don’t have to thank me, babe,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

 

“I just don’t want our kids making the same mistakes that we did,” she sighed, leaning back against her seat, watching Polly and that boy walk away from the house, hand in hand. She scowled.

 

“They weren’t all mistakes,” he pointed out.

 

“I know,” she allowed. “I just...I regret so _much_ , Jonesy. So much of what I did. And Polly just...thinks the life that I used to have is something to strive for.”

 

“Maybe it will be different for her,” he allowed. “She’ll see him whether you ban him from seeing her or not,” he added. “Let’s have the dinner...see how it goes. Maybe she’ll decide against it.”

 

“Yeah, maybe.”

 

“For now,” he suggested. “Why don’t we wake the kids up and...try to get them reacclimated with living here.”

 

“Okay,” she agreed. “What do we tell them about Polly?”

 

“That she had plans with a friend.” Alice drew him closer for another kiss, his breath hot against hers. “It’s gonna be okay, Al,” he murmured. “I promise.” She believed Jonesy (she had always believed Jonesy), and his words of reassurance made her relax somewhat. “It’s gonna be okay,” he repeated.

 

“Okay,” she agreed. “I think that we should wake up the others, like you said, and get them inside the house,” she said. “Maybe we can wait to unpack, but they should be sleeping in beds, at least.”

 

She climbed out of the car and went around to the back of the station wagon, where Betty and Jughead had claimed the rearmost seat, with the luggage and without the drama. The twosome were still soundly asleep, and Alice gently shook Betty’s shoulder, figuring that waking her up would be easier than Jughead. She knew that the boy didn’t sleep with his hearing aids in, and she didn’t want to alarm him needlessly. Hadn’t he been through enough over the last few days? Over the course of his life? Betty stirred, and she sat up slowly. “We’re home,” she told her. “Can you wake up Jughead for me?”

 

“Have you been crying?” Betty asked.

 

“That doesn’t matter,” she lied. “I’m just tired, Elizabeth. I’m exhausted. I need to go to bed, and I need to make sure that you and your siblings are okay before I do so.”

 

“What about Polly?”

 

“I...I can’t deal with it right now,” she admitted. “Polly will be alright without me breathing down her neck when she ignores her curfew for one night.”

 

Beside Elizabeth, Jughead has woken, and she pretends to not notice him putting his hearing aids in. If there’s one thing Alice Jones understands, it’s wanting to be normal, or at least present oneself as normal to others.

 

“We’re home, honey,” she tells him, speaking slowly and carefully, like she always does when speaking to the children in general, but Jughead specifically. FP had told her once that he could hear better when he wasn’t spoken to at the speed of lightning, and she had taken that advice to heart. She’d never wanted Jughead or Jellybean to be uncomfortable around her. “Did you want to help me take some things in?”

 

“Yes, Alice,” he said, ducking his head as Betty scowled at her.

 

“Mom,” Betty demanded. “What are you doing?”  


“I want to help, Betts,” he interjected. Betty fell silent. Alice felt a headache coming on.

 

“Can we discuss this later, Elizabeth?” She begged. “Please.”

 

“Yes, Mom,” she said, her tone one of insolence. “I’m sorry.”

 

“You don’t need to apologize, Betty,” she said, sighing. “I’m just...very tired, honey. I need to sleep.” She pulled her close. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize, Mom,” she said. “I’m sorry, too.”

 

“You don’t need to apologize for my failings,” Alice replied. “You’d never have any time to do anything else.”

  


***

  


If the Coopers had been seen as a family with Northside ideals to be emulated, (Great Great Grandpappy Cooper had been a founding member of the town),  the Joneses had been seen as the worst type of Southsiders (FP was the _second_ Forsythe Pendleton Jones to be the King of the Serpents), and it made sense that the town of Riverdale had absolutely no idea what to make of the Cooper-Joneses. There was a sense of awe, and bewilderment, at the family that lived in the house on the grey area between North and South sides, and that seemed to rule _both_ sides of town with an iron fist.   


Sure, Sierra McCoy may have been Mayor, but Alice Jones was really the one that was in charge. People liked Sierra, they thought that she was a fair leader, and they hoped she would keep the fiery leader of the Serpents (who owned the town’s only paper, the Riverdale Register), in check. FP Jones may have been the Serpents’ King, but it was the Serpents’ Queen that no one wanted to cross. FP Jones could be counted on to deal with his issues with physical intent, while Alice Jones held a grudge like no one’s business, and knew the business of everyone in the town’s.

 

Which brought Tom Keller to where he was today, as always, regretting winning his election to be the Sheriff.

 

“Would you like to explain what the problem is?” He asked, eying the blonde that stood before him in his office warily, trying to make sense of what the hell Alice Jones was on about _today_.

 

“Hal is taking exception to his firing,” Alice said, pacing back and forth, her heels sure to be wearing grooves in his office floor. “I refuse to work with him another day,” she said. “Surely you’ve seen today’s paper?”  
  
“The one where you publicly announced he was no longer working for you?” Tom chanced to ask, gesturing to the periodical that he had been in the middle of reading when the stormcloud from the South had emerged through his door. “Can I ask why you’re getting rid of Marmaduke?”   


She raised a brow at him. “Because it _sucks_ , Keller. However, if you rid me of Hal, I will deign to keep it.”

 

Tom Keller had been warned about the cold war that took place between Alice Jones and Harold Cooper. He knew that it was why the two Sheriffs prior to him had needed to be sent away, for the stress of patrolling the twosome had ruined their health. At the time, he’d thought that Sierra had been over exaggerating for the sake of warning him. These were the people that were Kevin’s friend Betty’s parents, after all, and Betty was always sweet and lovely to him.

 

He had decided that that was the influence of FP Jones that had led to Betty Cooper being sweet and lovely, after coverage of a _new menu item_ at Pop Tate’s had led to Alice and Hal practically coming to blows, in the middle of the dinner rush. He’d thought that Pop was joking when he requested a detail at the news that the _Register_ would be covering his event, but...damn was that man certainly perceptive.

 

That had been his first encounter with the...problem children that masqueraded as respectable citizens by day, and apparently seemed incapable of being functional adults when they were in the vicinity of one another.

 

Pop had managed to explain that the reason there were two fully grown adults screaming at each other as Fred Andrews and FP Jones separated the two of them was because of, of all things, Mrs. Jones’s daughter eating an _orange freeze_.

 

It had really only gotten worse. He could see why his predecessors had needed to take their leave. Dealing with Alice and Hal was exhausting.

 

But! Ever the resourceful Sheriff, Tom Keller had decided to press forth with his decision to involve himself in the business of others.

 

“How is Polly doing?” He asked, recalling having to accompany an irate Alice Jones to the very _strange_ convent on the outskirts of town, where her oldest child had been languishing for half of a month. “Is she recovering?”

 

“I suppose,” Alice replied. “She’s just being a teenager,” she sighed. “They’re all impossible.”

 

“You know that there are ...policies in place that can help keep you safe,” he said. “You could serve him with a restraining order, or request no contact… the Sheriff’s office would back you up.”

 

“Don’t you think that I tried?”

 

Tom really didn’t know where to begin with how the police and the previous Sheriff had failed Alice Jones.

 

“I _mean_ it, Alice,” he said. “I don’t care for Cooper,” he told her. “I don’t like how he treats you, or those girls. Things are different now.”

 

“He’s a Cooper,” she said flatly. “His great-grandfather helped _found_ the town.”

 

“That might have meant something to the previous Sheriffs,” he said. “It doesn’t mean anything to me. Let me help you. You don’t even have to keep the ‘Duke.”

 

“Don’t call it that,” she said, a smirk appearing on her lips. “The ‘Duke? That’s even more asinine. I guess. You can help. If you really want to.”

 

The Serpent Queen always looked prenaturally put together (even when she lets Betty and Kevin have sleepovers and Tom shows up to pick him up at ungodly early hours), but, as Tom looked at her filling out the forms, he realized that there was the chance it was an elaborate front. Alice Jones, quite frankly, looks like she is hanging by a very exhausting, very frayed, thin, thread.

 

“Is everything okay? Besides the issues with Hal?”  


“It’s just been a long week,” she told him. “Jughead and Jellybean have come home, and we’re adjusting.”

 

“Well, you’re welcome to have Betty and Jughead come over and spend the night at our place, if you want?”  


Alice Jones sighed. “I guess I could see if they wanted to,” she allowed. (Tom was honestly expecting her to say no, he’s pretty sure that Kevin and Betty’s sleepovers have been exclusively under her watchful gaze.) “Jughead wants to spend time with Archibald,” she sighed. “As if I could let them go over to that house with Hal being how he is.”

 

“Fred Andrews’ son?”

 

“Yes,” she answered, her lips pursed and her jaw set. “They were friends when Jughead and Jellybean lived here before.”

 

“I suppose he could join them,” he offered. Tom wasn’t sure if Kevin and Archie were friends, but he could find out. He was sure that Kevin would agree to the sleepover anyways, for Betty and Jughead’s sake.

 

The look Alice was giving him was a strange one, but she slowly nodded. “Just...make sure there’s no funny business,” she settled on. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”

 

“Is there funny business going on at your house when they sleep over?”  


“Are you kidding me? Oh, Tom,” Alice said, her eyes wide with delight. “Men are so _cute_ when they’re oblivious. Talk to your child.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But, for what it’s worth? If he ever mentions FP? I doubt very much he’s appreciating his Serpent skills.” He heard her say ‘perhaps his Serpent tattoo’, under her breath, but he wasn’t sure if he was just imagining things, so he let it slide.

 

“I meant with Andrews,” she added flatly. “I already have my hands full with Margaret’s decision to betray me by ways of rebellion. I don’t want Elizabeth to follow in her _redhead-adoring_ footsteps.”

 

Tom Keller made a mental note to talk to Kevin about...whatever it was that caused Alice Jones to find the thought of funny business between Kevin and Betty to be laughable.

 

“You realize that I wouldn’t stop Kevin from dating a Serpent, right?”  
  
“That’s very sweet of you,” she said. “You do realize that children do whatever they want to do, right? It’s a letdown to discover, let me tell you.”

 

Tom presented the papers that she needed to sign to get the restraining order in place, and Alice filled them out in record time. He was awfully impressed.

 

“Do you want to be there when I deal with Hal?” He asked.

 

“I’d love to,” she said, a glint in her eyes that always faintly worried Tom Keller whenever he saw it. “Can we use the siren?”

  
  
  
  



	5. wanderlust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal had to admit that most of his bravado had been brought about by the fact that Alice (whom he absolutely thought was absolutely batshit) had been in the patrol car, shouting at him through the window. When he saw the door open, well, a weaker, more intelligent version of Hal, probably would have ran. Hal was a strong man, however, and he was not very bright.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little over the top, Alice?” Hal Cooper demanded, when the sound of sirens (normally a sign that he was going to get a big scoop on an article, hopefully before that ex-wife of his) had petered to a stop in front of the Riverdale Register, the Sheriff’s car revealing said ex-wife and the Sheriff himself. “Honestly, I got the hint when you wrote that ridiculous edition of the Register dedicated to  _ mocking _ me,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Just because I gave you a little trouble, you bring in an officer of the law?”

 

“I thought your kind didn’t embrace the legal life,” he added, a lecherous grin on his face. “What would your precious  _ Jonesy _ say if he knew?”

 

“I think it’s adorable that you think FP is the one of us you should be scared of,” Alice said, that damn self-important gaze on her face, the kind that he’d thought he’d seen the end of when he’d pawned her and the kids off on FP Jones, assuming that she would have been far too ashamed of what she’d done to bother trying to collect child support from him or anything. “You always were too dumb for your own good, Harold.” 

 

“You’re just PMSing, or you’re upset because I wanted Polly to get the right sort of treatment, rather than those sugar pills you feed her,” he growled. “The Sisters of Quiet Mercy was the right decision for her, Penelope and I agreed. And, so did Polly. She doesn’t want to end up like you, after all.”

 

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh,” Tom Keller, who spent all his time trying to be the Barney Fife of Riverdale, or maybe the Andy Griffith, dared to ask, and he shrugged. “It was parental kidnapping,” he reminded him.

 

“Alice, here, shouldn’t have fucked around on me with FP Jones,” he told him. “Maybe if she hadn’t been so completely  _ stupid _ , our nuclear family would still be intact, and our children would benefit.”

 

“Isn’t it interesting,” Alice said, and her tone made it very clear to Hal, that she did not find what she was about to say interesting, but rather, that she was about to be a sanctimonious bitch, like always. “It’s interesting how Hal here brings up the fact that I ‘fucked around on him’ with FP, but conveniently neglects to mention that I was the one awarded the divorce because of, oh, what was that, the fact that the state of New York considered me to be in an abusive marriage.”

 

“Because you got pregnant with Jones’ bastard child!” 

 

Hal noticed that Keller was eying him warily, and he growled, slamming his hand down on the patrol car. 

 

“That didn’t give you an excuse for how you reacted,” Alice said primly. “I had asked for a divorce, Hal, and because you didn’t believe in them, I stepped out on you,” she recounted, with about as much emotion as a weather reporter discussing rain. “Yes, I stepped out on you with FP, and yes, I got pregnant. You  _ strangled _ me, Harold. The bruises you left on me took  _ months _ to fully go away, and thanks to your  _ idiocy _ I can’t turn my neck all the way to the left, half the time.” 

 

“You needed to be taught a lesson!”

 

“And, still, I made every attempt to accommodate you,” she continued. “I allowed you visitation with the children, even when Elizabeth didn’t want to go see you, I gave you the house, I graciously allowed you to be employed here because you insisted that the paper was the only place that would pay you enough to be able to pay your alimony to me, and your child support to the kids. I can’t do this, anymore. You’re becoming irrational, not just with me, but with our  _ children _ as well.”

 

“That’s bull!” He thundered, belatedly realizing that protesting irrationality with shouting was probably not his brightest move. “Dammit, Alice. You don’t know when to give up, do you?”

 

“Hal, maybe we should try to calm down,” Keller was saying, and Hal turned to glower at him. 

 

“Why the  _ hell _ would I do that? I moulded Alice into the perfect woman, the perfect wife, I worshipped her like a  _ Goddess _ our entire marriage when she was just a snake in a Northsider’s clothing. I’m surprised it was only  _ one _ kid with Jones. I mean, after that mistake that she better have gotten rid of.”

 

“Charles wasn’t a mistake,” Alice snapped. “I  _ loved _ him, and I put him up for adoption to keep him away from  _ you _ . You think you’re so high and mighty, all pious and holy and whatnot. I wonder what your mother would say if she heard you tried to pressure me into having that  _ procedure  _ done. Whatever would she think, Hal? Maybe we should call, and ask her, you know, with Tom here as a witness.” 

 

“You are  _ crazy _ , Alice Cooper! Absolutely out of your mind!”

 

Hal had to admit that most of his bravado had been brought about by the fact that Alice (whom he absolutely thought was absolutely batshit) had been in the patrol car, shouting at him through the window. When he saw the door open, well, a weaker, more intelligent version of Hal, probably would have ran. Hal was a strong man, however, and he was not very bright. 

 

“I haven’t been a Cooper for over five years,” she hissed, eyes narrow. “You just never could get over the fact that FP makes me happy. He never hurts me. He doesn’t treat me like I’m dirty because of where I’m from.”

 

“He’s just as much scum as you are! What the hell does happiness have to do with a damn thing, Alice? You could have had whatever it was you wanted. No questions asked. And you threw it all away.”

 

“I don’t care what you think about me,” Alice snapped. “You keep FP’s name out of your damn mouth, Hal.”

 

“Why? So you can throw another brick at me?”   
  


“You  _ kidnapped my child _ ,” Alice said. “You  _ ruined her, _ you and that half melted trollop you call a girlfriend. I want my daughter back, you  _ bastard _ .” 

 

  
“You’re crazy, Alice,” he said. “And Polly was going to be just as crazy as you are.”

 

“I’m not  _ crazy _ , Harold! Anything that’s hypothetically wrong with me can be traced  _ directly back to you _ .” 

 

“Yeah, I’m familiar with your divorce attorney’s crackpot theory on that, princess,” he spat. “I was just trying to help keep you in line, it’s not my fault your bad breeding overruled my positive influences.”

 

“Guys!” Keller interjected. “What are the two of you  _ doing _ ?”

 

“I’m explaining to Alice everything that she ever did wrong,” Hal explained, his tone smug. “Starting with being too weak willed to ever learn any form of control. So what if I smacked her around a bit?” Okay, Hal’s inner voice said, maybe you shouldn’t say such things to the Sheriff. Unfortunately, Hal tended to ignore his inner voice. “If I ever hurt her it was because she never bothered to learn her place.”

 

Keller opened his idiot mouth, probably to say something stupid like ‘hitting your wife is illegal’, or whatever hippie liberal bullshit had come into vogue lately, but Alice beat him to it. 

 

“Are you serious?” She demanded. Hal hated when she demanded things. “You actually believe that what you did to me was acceptable because I wasn’t your perfect little Stepford Wife?”

 

“You finally understand.”

 

“What I understand is that you have never understood what you’ve done to me,” she corrected, closing the gap between the two of them, holding one of the awards he’d won in her hands. From what Hal could remember, it had been a heavy one. Crystal, he recalled. “You  _ never _ understood why I left you. You never understood why I changed.”

 

He had meant to use his words to reply (Hal may have wanted to smack the look off of Alice’s face, but they were in front of the Sheriff, after all), but before he fully knew what he was doing, his fist connected with her face. Hal blanched. “Alice, I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

 

“An  _ accident _ ,” she replied, dropping the award (it hit Hal’s foot before falling on the sidewalk, shattered into a million pieces). “I’ll show you an  _ accident _ .” Her hands found their way to his neck, and he felt her fingertips dig into him. “Did you wonder what it felt like when you did this to me?” She asked, her tone conversational, as her grip tightened. “How does it feel, Hal?” 

 

“Alice,” Hal had never been more grateful to see Keller’s face. “Alice, let go of him. I need to cuff him.”

 

“It’s over?” 

 

“If you let him go,” he said. Hal figured Keller was bluffing about cuffing him. Alice had tried to  _ kill  _ him. So he relaxed (incrementally) when she released her grip on his throat, only for her to knee him in a  _ very _ sensitive area. 

 

“Alice!” He exclaimed. “What the  _ hell _ is wrong with you?” Christ, Hal thought to himself. There was a crowd of people growing across the street, all gawking at his embarrassing loss of control, and, there was Alice, weeping hysterically. “Stop trying to buy people’s sympathy!”

 

“I would suggest being quiet, Harold,” Keller said, and he felt the cool metal of handcuffs slip on to his wrists. “I would think a person like you would do best to hire an attorney.”

 

“What?” 

 

“You’re under arrest, you have the right to remain silent, anything that you say will be used against you in a court of law,” the Sheriff said, and Hal bristled at the tone he was using. He wasn’t a child. He knew what his rights were. 

 

“What about Alice?”

 

“She reacted in self defense,” Keller said. “You did break her nose.” 


	6. sophomore jinx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ms. Grundy,” she supplied. “She’s like way old,” she continued. “Older than Santa. Ally, is Santa still gonna come this year?”

“What happened to your face?” Jellybean asked Alice curiously when she approached the car, throwing her backpack in the back seat. “Can I sit up front with you?”  


“It’s a long story,” Alice said, referring to her face, sighing quietly. “And, no,” she told her gently. “Your dad is sitting up front, you’re too young. When you’re older, okay? Where is your dad?”  


“Getting Lottie,” she supplied, climbing in the front seat anyways. “I just want to sit here until he gets out,” she explained. “Please, Allie? Will you let me?”  


“Yeah, sure,” she conceded. It wasn’t like sitting in the front seat of the car was harmful to Jellybean when they weren’t driving, and she didn’t feel like arguing with the second grader about something so sophomoric. “You have a good day, baby?”  


“Everyone stared at me,” Jellybean replied. “No one knows who I am at all, I don’t have any friends.”  


“Why did they stare at you?” She asked. Alice was not amused with that bit of knowledge. “Were they mean?” She sighed.

 

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Maybe they know about Mom? Doesn’t that make me weird?”  


“Jellybean,” Alice said quietly. “You’re not weird, and I don’t think they know about your mother,” she told her. “I think it’s just that Riverdale is a small town and most of the kids in your class have been living here their whole lives.”

 

“Like Betty and Polly?” Jelly asked, surprising Alice when she crawled over to sit on her lap. “They’re nice to me, though. So’s Lottie.”  


“Well, they’re your sisters,” she pointed out, running her hands through the seven year old’s hair, hoping that the gesture soothed her. Maybe it had been too much to expect Jellybean and Jughead to go to school straight away. She hoped that it wasn’t too ruinous on their general development. “Was your teacher nice?” She queried. Jellybean nodded. “What’s her name?”

 

“Ms. Grundy,” she supplied. “She’s like way old,” she continued. “Older than Santa. Allie, is Santa still gonna come this year?”  


“Of course, baby,” she assured her. “Santa will always come for you and your siblings, I promise.” She pressed a kiss to Jelly’s cheek. “I love you.” It was true. For all of Alice’s shortcomings, of which there were many, she did love her children, whether they were hers biologically, or the children of her heart. Alice Jones hadn’t known much of love growing up, so it was important to her that the kids, no matter whose they were or where they’d come from, knew how much that she loved them. Especially Jughead and Jellybean.   


“I love you, too, Allie,” her stepdaughter replied. “Are you okay?”

 

Alice sighed. She was completely mortified by what had happened (Hal’s behavior always mortified her), and she really thought that Jellybean was too young to know that her first marriage had been filled with abuse, but she supposed the girl could have a version of the truth. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had her share of horrible, innocence wrecking events already.

 

“Hal hit me,” she told her. “But Tom Keller arrested him!” She assured the girl. “And it looks worse than it feels.” That was a lie, but Alice didn’t want her to worry about her. “I really am okay,” she promised. “He won’t hurt me anymore, and your dad is here to keep me safe.”

 

Jellybean seemed to be considering her answer, which Alice wasn’t entirely sure was convincing, but the little girl nodded, and she let out a soft sigh of relief.

 

“He only hurt your nose?” Jelly asked, as she cuddled close.

 

“Yeah,” she said, and she left out the part about her having lost control, having tried to strangle him, which she still thought Hal deserved but she knew wasn’t appropriate for Jelly to hear. “Your daddy’s gonna make sure I’ll be okay,” she told her. “Like he always does. So you don’t have to worry, okay?”  


“Daddy loves you,” Jelly whispered in her ear, clearly thinking she was telling Alice a deep, dark, secret. “I love you, too.”

 

“I know, baby doll,” she assured her. “Wanna help me make pies for Thanksgiving?”

 

“Can we make a chocolate one?”

 

“Sure we can,” she said. “We can make whatever you want, okay? You and your brother can pick this year.”

 

Jellybean let out a happy squeal, and Alice let out a happy sigh, pleased that she had possibly done something right for once in her sorry excuse for a life. All Alice had ever wanted to be was a good mother. It had been why she’d let Charles be put up for adoption all those years ago (who would ever want a mother like you, dearie, the nuns had told her, and Alice had believed them), and why she had tried so hard to work things out with Hal, even when they were just completing the motions of a sham. She had actually been grateful to fall pregnant with Charlotte, since the baby on the way had given her an impetus to do better for her, to get out of an environment that would have been unsafe. Hal wouldn’t have believed Charlotte was his. They hadn’t slept together since she had gotten pregnant with Betty, and even though he was dumb, she was dubious that he was that stupid. If he was that stupid, she wouldn’t want to know.   


FP had deserved to know about the pregnancy, but she hadn’t expected him to leave Gladys over it. She was sorry that her mistake had caused him so much trouble. Not that FP viewed Lottie as a mistake. He had been excited for her from the moment he’d known about her, even though he had been drunk as all get out, and the fact that he’d managed to sober up for her was nothing short of a miracle. Alice loved her husband more than she loved herself, and, though he thought nothing of what he’d done, she was so proud.

 

“Gonna drive us home, Bean?” FP asked, his tone teasing, and he grinned at her and Jelly.

 

“I’m too little,” Jellybean said, pouting. “You’re silly, Daddy.” She scrambled to get in the back, and Alice watched as FP made sure that both the girls were buckled up, before he got in the front beside her, reaching out to take her hand.

 

“Sorry I took so long,” he said. “I’ll tell you later.”

 

“It’s fine,” she promised. “Jelly and I were fine waiting. Don’t worry about it.” She plastered a bright smile on her face, and directed it at Lottie. “Hi, baby,” she told her youngest, putting the car in gear as she did. “You have fun at kindergarten?”

 

“Yeah,” she said. “We colored turkeys!”

 

“That’s excellent,” she told her. “Show me yours when we get home?”

 

“Okay, Mama,” she said, her pigtails bouncing.

 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” FP murmured. “Later. When they’re asleep.”

 

“How romantic of you,” she teased. “Yeah, I’d be up for it.”

 

FP didn’t need to do bold romantic gestures for Alice to know how much she was loved by him. She had had a marriage filled with false romance, and, honestly, she preferred what she had now, with her Jonesy. He loved her, and she loved him, and they both fucking knew it.   


“I’m sorry, that I wasn’t there,” he said, keeping his tone low. “You shouldn’t have been in that situation.”  


“There will always be a situation with Hal.”

 

“But, maybe if I had been there, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”  


“But he would have hurt you,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t want that.”

  



	7. uncivilized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please stop doing this,” Alice said quietly, expertly applying the ointment to her daughter’s palms, placing bandages where her nails had dug in to her skin. “I know that you think it helps, but it’s not healthy, Elizabeth. You’re going to scar.” She pressed a kiss to the top of Betty’s head. “Can I ask you something?”

“What is that boy doing here?” Alice demanded when she entered the house to see two unwelcome additions to her living room, one of whom she could tolerate because he was her stepson’s best friend, and the other whom she was decidedly  _ not _ planning on tolerating. Polly was nowhere to be found (wasn’t that typical of her, Alice thought, her scowl surely visible on her face) as she surveyed the room, and the fact that her sweet, impressionable, Elizabeth had been left alone in the living room to play host to Archibald and  _ that horrible boy _ did not make Alice Jones happy in the least. “Explain, Elizabeth.”   
  


“Jughead’s upstairs getting something, Mom,” Betty said, climbing off the couch and approaching her, her expression one of concern. That Blossom boy snickered, and Alice shot him a glare. “I don’t understand, did you want Archie to go upstairs with us? I thought we were too old for that.”

 

“I don’t need an explanation for Archibald’s presence, Elizabeth,” she hissed. “Why the hell is the Blossom boy doing here, and where is your sister?”

 

“Polly and Cheryl are upstairs,” Betty explained, and Alice tried very hard to maintain her cool, not wanting to have a meltdown in front of Jason Blossom, of all the people. “Maybe we should go into the kitchen, Mom?”   
  


“Don’t bother, Betty,” Jason Blossom dared to speak, and Alice shot him a murderous glare. “I already know your mother’s a crackpot that got Mom’s boyfriend sent upstate. Polly invited us for dinner,” he said. “Is today a bad time?”

 

“Both of you,” she said, eyes flashing. “Elizabeth, and you, Archie,” she said, drawing the attention of the Andrews boy, who looked like he was trying desperately to disappear. “You are coming with me.” She gazed at Jason. “I might suggest that you stay right where you are, and wait for Polly,” she said. “You’d hate to set me or my husband off, wouldn’t you?”

 

“What would you do?” Jason asked, his tone cocky. “Try to strangle me?”

 

“I don’t get my hands dirty with people like you,” Alice informed him, releasing Elizabeth’s arm from her grip and crossing over to the couch, grabbing Archie with one hand as she leaned in, looking Jason in the eyes. “Why would I bother? You’ll discard Polly like she’s garbage like I warned her, and eventually you’ll be  _ nothing _ to her. I know what you’re like, Jason, I knew your father, and I knew your mother, and I know what the two of you are like.” She shook her head. “Why don’t you look up Harold’s arrest records and see if there might be a reason I turned into, what did you call me? A crackpot.” She smiled. “I don’t bother with people like you, but I might consider my actions a little more carefully around Polly’s stepfather,” she admitted, her tone bored. “See, FP is the Serpent King,” she told Jason. “And...Serpents? We can  _ constrict _ , that’s true. But, my Jonesy? He’s a biter. Do I make myself clear, Blossom?”

 

Jason nodded. “Archibald, come on,” she said. “The two of you come upstairs with me,” she instructed. “You too, Elizabeth. If you think I’m letting either of you spend more time than needed with Jason Blossom, you are deluded.”

 

Elizabeth came up beside Alice, clenching her fists together, and she gently pried them apart, squeezing her hands tenderly. “It’s alright, Betty. I’m going to deal with it. Don’t hurt yourself.”

 

“Mrs. Jones?” Archie asked, and she gazed at him. “I have a question.”

 

“Can it wait until we get upstairs?” She requested, her tone almost maternal. It wasn’t Archie’s fault that Hal had happened and then Jason and Cheryl and Polly’s willful ignorance had occurred. “I promise, whatever question you have, I will deem worthy on this occasion.” It was a sacrifice (Archibald’s questions tended to trigger her headaches, or make her question her presence on earth), but for once...she was okay with it. 

 

“I would listen to her, Arch,” Betty said. “Where’s FP?” She queried. “Is he coming in?”   
  


“Jelly and Lottie wanted to go to the park,” she told her. “Thank god they did, I don’t want them around  _ those people _ , can you imagine?”

 

Alice strode up the stairs to the second floor, only keeping pace with the two thirteen year olds because they were arm-in-arm with her. She could hear the cloying sounds of Cheryl and Polly in the latter’s bedroom, and she came to an abrupt stop in front of the door. “I want the two of you to go sit with Jughead, okay,” she told them. “Both of you, it’s okay,” she said, the extra assurance for Betty’s sake. “I will be in after I deal with this.”   
  


“You’re okay by yourself?” Betty asked, her voice small. Alice nodded.

 

“Yes, sweetheart, I think Jughead needs you right now,” she said. “More than I do. I’ll be okay.” She brushed a kiss against her forehead. “Go. And keep Archibald away from those framed photos.”

 

Alice thought about bursting in the room without knocking (it was entirely what Polly deserved), but for the sake of her throbbing face she knocked sharply on the door. “Let me in  _ now _ , Margaret Cooper,” she said firmly, hoping that the fact that there was no room for arguing was understood by the girl. When the door opened, and Alice was met with the face of Cheryl Blossom, she barely managed to hold back a scream. “Hello,” she said, her tone icy. “Excuse me.”

 

“Alice Jones,” Cheryl replied. “Boy have Jay Jay and I heard a  _ lot _ about you.”

 

“I don’t believe I came in here to speak to you,” she said. “Margaret Cooper,” she seethed, her mood not improving when Polly openly rolled her eyes at her. “What are you doing with these people, in my house, without my permission?”   
  


“Jughead and Betty don’t need permission for Archie to be here,” Polly said, her tone defiant. “What’s the difference?”   
  


“Are you serious? What’s the difference between the Blossom twins and Archie Andrews? Are you being deliberately obtuse? That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”   
  


“You told me I could invite them over for dinner,” she said, as she clambored off of the bed, clearly attempting to appear threatening. “So, I did.”   
  


“I meant once everyone had time to adjust to things,” she muttered. “Not the day that your brother and sister started back up at school after moving back home! And you knew that!”

 

“They’re not my brother and sister,” she said. “You want to consider them your kids, that’s fine. Betty wants to replace Dad with FP? That’s fine too. But don’t expect me to be Betty, Mom. I can’t be.”

 

“What did they say to Jughead?” Alice demanded. “Cheryl, what did you say?”   
  


“Nothing that wasn’t the truth,” the redhead said, examining her nails as she perched on Polly’s vanity. “And I didn’t say anything to the little crybaby. That was Jay Jay and Pollykins.”

 

“What did you say to Jughead, Margaret?” She hissed. “Tell me what the hell the two of you said to him.”

 

“Nothing that wasn’t the truth, Mom.”

 

“Get out,” she snapped, unaware of what she was saying before she said it, but sticking to her words. “The three of you, get the hell out of my house.”

 

“You’re not serious, Mom.”

 

“Oh, I am serious, Margaret. I am very upset with you, and with the company your father wants you to keep. Find somewhere else to eat dinner, because it won’t be here.”

 

“What will you do?”   
  


“You don’t want to test me,” she said. “Not today. Not after what your  _ hero father _ did to me. I think we all know what I’m capable of.”

 

“Maybe we should leave,” Cheryl suggested. “I mean, I don’t think it’s worth it to fight, Pollykins.”

 

“That’s right, you should leave,” Alice said. “Go, before I do something we’ll both regret,” she commanded. “And I think by now you have a good idea I don’t care about what the neighbors will think.” With that, she exited Polly’s room, taking a deep breath before heading down the hallway to Jughead’s. There was no need in traumatizing the other children any more than they already were, she reminded herself. She could calm down. 

 

Polly’s comments about FP and Jughead and Jellybean had stung, but she wasn’t really surprised that her eldest child felt like that. Polly had been older when she and Hal had divorced, and she was his favorite  _ after _ the divorce, when Betty had gravitated towards her mother and to the baby that Alice was pregnant with, countering Hal’s complaints about her and FP with logic and facts, instead of toeing the line he’d tried to build, Polly had...hated her stepfather and begrudgingly tolerated the baby on the way. Alice often wondered if that was her own thinking or her father’s thinking (Hal was always willing to seek out a good mouthpiece or two in his day), but whatever the reasoning was, it was absolutely unacceptable. 

 

She watched as Cheryl and Polly exited her room, satisfied as they went downstairs, hoping they actually left. 

 

Alice sighed, loudly knocking on Jughead’s door. She knew that when Jughead was upset, he took off his hearing aids, and that there was a good chance he was upset. Betty and Archie could hear perfectly fine, of course, but there was something to be said for being polite. Respectful. 

 

“I’m sorry, Alice,” Jughead said, opening the door. “I didn’t mean to upset anyone.” Jellybean called her Ally, but Jughead tended to stick to Alice, no matter how many times she told him that he could call her whatever he wanted. It was obvious that Jughead had been crying. “He just made me so mad.”

 

“I’m not upset at you,” she said. “You don’t have to apologize for what Polly did. It was terrible of her, and if her father wasn’t in jail, she would be spending the night with him, despite the fact that I stripped his custody of her and Elizabeth.”

 

“You would--”

 

“No, sweetheart,” Alice said to Elizabeth, her tone soothing. “No, I promise you you’ll never have to see Hal again, not if you don’t want to.” She sat down on the bed beside her daughter, taking great care to ignore the fact that Archie Andrews was also on Jughead’s bed. No one could say that Alice couldn’t be merciful. “You know that FP and I, we won’t make you, honey,” she assured her. “I’m sorry that we ever did.” She patted the spot beside her. “Come sit, Jughead,” she beckoned. “I don’t bite, much.”   
  


Archie’s eyes were wide, but Jughead smiled at her comment, and sat down beside her, so she considered it a job well done. 

 

“What was it you wanted to ask me, Archie?” Though Alice’s inner voice protested her remembering that Archie had wanted to ask her something, she decided to let politeness win out.

 

“I was just wondering,” Archie said. “Since Jughead just came back, and all, and since he’s staying for good, am I still invited to your Thanksgiving dinner?”   
  


“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be,” she replied. “Will your parents be joining us?” 

 

Archie shook his head. “They were wondering if you and Mr. Jones would let me stay here,” he said, as Alice felt her brows rise to new heights at the audacity of Fred and Mary using their child as a conduit for requests instead of either one of them asking her or FP (whom Fred worked with!) themselves. “They haven’t been getting along lately.”

 

“Next time,” Alice said, “tell your parents to ask me themselves, or ask FP themselves. They’re the adults, not you. I suppose you may stay.” 

 

“They’re going to Chicago,” Archie told her. “They’ve been fighting a lot lately. I don’t want to go.”   
  


“You don’t have to,” she said. “You’re welcome to stay with us, and I will tell them that myself, okay?” Archie nodded. “You know that your parents, they love you, right, Archie?” 

 

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled.

 

“I just wanted to make sure that you knew that,” she said, squeezing his hand. “And you should know that you’re always welcomed here, no questions asked.” It was difficult for Alice to say that out loud, but Archie had been Betty and Jughead’s friend since they were in diapers, and he deserved to know he had a place to escape to if things got rough at home. She and FP had never had that, and she wondered if it would have helped them, if they had. “Even if it’s the middle of the night, I will have FP come get you, okay?”

 

“Thanks, Mrs. Jones.”    
  


“You can call me Alice, if you want,” she offered. What did she care if Betty and Jughead’s friends called her by her first name? They were at least more respectful than the company Polly kept. “And, you’re welcome.”

 

“Polly told Jason and Cheryl about how Jughead and Jellybean’s mom died,” Betty supplied, and Alice pulled her closer. “Cheryl didn’t say anything, but Jason started making fun of him, like it was a joke or something. And it got worse and worse from there.”

 

“Listen to me,” Alice told Jughead. “I don’t want you to take what Jason Blossom says to heart,” she said. “He’s rude, he’s pompous, and he’s ignorant. He always has been. And, I am so sorry about Polly. I don’t think she’s ever gotten over my divorcing her father and marrying yours.”

 

“But Hal hits you,” Jughead said, his tone confused. “Didn’t he hit you back then, too?”

 

“How did you know that?” 

 

“I didn’t,” Jughead admitted. “It was just a guess because he hit you today, and because my mom used to complain about you still getting alimony even though you and Dad were married.” 

 

Alice pursed her lips. “Yes, he hit me,” she conceded. “And, yes, his treatment of me means I get alimony even though your dad and I are married. I don’t think Polly cares, though. Or understands.” 

 

“Did he hit you today?” Betty asked, her eyes wide, and her tone quiet. “Mom...I thought you walked into a door.”   
  
“That’s what I used to tell you, so you wouldn’t worry,” she admitted. “Elizabeth, I fired your father from the Register today,” she said. “He got belligerent, as is his wont, and when I returned with the Sheriff, we got into an argument. Your father...he punched me in the face, as you can all see. I tried to strangle him. I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to make him feel like i had felt when it had happened to me.”

 

“When did it happen to you?” Betty asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

 

“When he found out I was pregnant with Lottie,” she answered. “And when he found out who her father is.” She shook her head. “I’m not telling you this because I enjoy speaking about it, or because I want to be the subject of town gossip. I’m telling you because you are old enough to know, and I am not sure I trust Hal around  _ any _ of you, even you, Archie, and I want you to be careful, since you live across the --”

 

“He moved out,” Archie said. “A few months ago.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“He moved in with his girlfriend,” he said. “They live in...Rosedale, or something?”

 

“Thornhill,” she corrected. “He’s dating Penelope Blossom. This may explain Polly’s worsening behavior, perhaps it was unfair to blame it all on that convent.” Alice sighed. “Are you hungry?” She asked Jughead. “Do you want me to get in touch with your father and see if he and the girls want to go to Pops with us?” 

 

“Yes,” he said immediately. “With Archie?”

 

“Yes, I was assuming he would join us,” she admitted. “Why doesn’t he call his parents to let them know that he’ll be having dinner with us? Betty, come along. I need to treat your hands.”

 

Elizabeth scowled, but she allowed Alice to lead her from the room, so she decided to let the facial expression slide. 

 

“Please stop doing this,” Alice said quietly, expertly applying the ointment to her daughter’s palms, placing bandages where her nails had dug in to her skin. “I know that you think it helps, but it’s not healthy, Elizabeth. You’re going to scar.” She pressed a kiss to the top of Betty’s head. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“What is it, Mom?” 

 

“Do you consider Jonesy to be like your father? It’s okay if you do, I won’t get mad.”   
  


“Polly says that I shouldn’t,” Betty said after a moment. “But, yeah, I do. I mean, maybe she’s right and I shouldn’t, because he’s nicer to me than Dad has ever been,” she whispered, and Alice heard her sniffle. “I know he’s not my dad, Mom, that he’s only my stepfather. I just...he’s nice to me. He treats me like I’m his own.” 

 

“It’s okay,” she assured her. “I think you should tell him that. I think it would make him happy.”   
  


“Polly said that he’d find it weird, that I’d just freak him out.”   
  
“Honey, you won’t,” she said. “I promise.” Alice wrapped her arms around Betty, and she pulled her into a hug. “I don’t think he’s ever forgotten how sweet you were when he got out of rehab, how you immediately accepted him into your, into our, lives. Polly is just saying things to cause trouble. If you want to call FP your dad, Betty, I won’t stand in your way. He’s been more of a father to you than Hal ever was.”

 

“Of course I accepted him. You loved him. You two were having a baby together. He was my friend’s dad, why wouldn’t I have?”

 

“It still meant the world to him.” Alice cupped her daughter’s chin in her hands. “But you should talk to Jughead, first,” she allowed. “He might not want you to. You understand, right?”   
  


Betty nodded, her ponytail bouncing. “Of course, I would never do that to Jughead if he didn’t want me to.”

 

“Go talk to your brother,” she commanded. “And, Elizabeth? You’re too young to date, but I find Archibald much less odious with every interaction I have with Mr. Blossom. Keep that in mind.”

 

Betty blushed. “Thanks, Mom.”

  
  


***

  
  


When Betty got back to Jughead’s room, still feeling the blush on her cheeks, she found Jughead and Archie signing to each other, obviously having a private conversation. Betty knew sign language, too (she and Archie had charmed her mother into signing them up for lessons, well, Betty had charmed Alice, when they found out that their new friend was hard-of-hearing), but she didn’t want to interrupt them if they were talking about something she wasn’t supposed to know about. She supposed it was Alice they didn’t want to know about their conversation. Her mother hadn’t been able to pick up as much ASL as she would have prefered, and Betty may or may not have told the boys that during a fit of anger at her parents. She wasn’t proud of it, but she had. 

 

“Am I interrupting anything?” She asked, vocalizing her question because neither of the boys had acknowledged her. 

 

“No, we were just talking about Archie’s mom and dad,” Jughead told her. “He didn’t want Polly to hear, if she was still here.”   
  


“I think she’s gone,” Betty said, peering out of the window. “Jason’s sports car is gone. Mom got really mad at her. Maybe you couldn’t hear.” She sat down on the bed between Jughead and Archie, tucking her hands into her sleeves in the hopes that no one would notice the bandages. She thought her mom was overreacting. “I’m sorry about your parents, Archie,” she said. “I don’t like when people fight, and they do fight a lot.”

 

“All married couples fight,” Archie muttered. “It’s normal.”

 

“Not like yours do,” Betty admitted. “They remind me of my parents, sometimes,” she sighed. “Why are they fighting today?”

 

Part of Betty wanted to talk to Jughead about what her mother had mentioned right away, but the greater part of Betty wanted to make sure that Archie was okay. He seemed so sad. Archie seemed sad all the time now, but today had been even worse in terms of his behavior. Jughead had had a better day in school than Archie had. Which wasn’t saying much. 

 

“Mom thinks that Dad has a problem,” he said, scowling. “I guess she doesn’t like that he’s still using those pills from when he had that accident at work.” 

 

“Accident at work?” She asked. “Are you talking about when he pulled a muscle in his back  _ moving wood _ ?” Betty tried very hard to keep her tone of disbelief out her voice, but considering that she and Lottie had been present during that…’accident’ and Alice Jones still let them spend time with FP at the construction company, not even under her watchful eyes, well, Betty thought calling it an accident was a spurious claim at best, if not downright false. “Which, happened...months ago?”

 

Archie nodded, and she and Jughead exchanged a glance. 

 

“Archie,” she said, trying to be delicate. “He couldn’t have hurt himself that badly. He’s a  _ construction worker _ . I can carry wood.  _ Lottie  _ could probably carry wood.” 

 

“I could carry wood, and we know how much I would rather not,” Jughead chimed in. “Do you think there could possibly be some truth to your mother’s claims?”

 

“He’s my dad, not your dad,” Archie said. “Your mother takes pills, no one calls her an addict.”

 

“My mother doesn’t take  _ opiods _ , Archie,” Betty hissed. “She takes  _ psychiatric medication _ , because my father  _ screwed her up that badly _ .” She glanced at Jughead. “And if you are talking about Jughead’s mother, you have  _ no right _ . If you think that’s an apt comparison, maybe you should be considering your mother’s opinion.” 

 

“Betty, I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn't mean to say that.”

 

“I’m not the only one that you should be apologizing to,” she said. “Apologize to Jughead. And you better mean it, Archie, because I know when you’re lying.”

 

“I’m sorry, Jug,” he said. “I shouldn’t have made that comment about Mr. Jones. I know he’s not like that anymore.”

 

“He’s a good dad, Archie,” Jughead said. “I try not to think of the problems he used to have. But you were out of line.”

 

“I know,” he mumbled. “I’m...gonna go get something to drink.”

 

They watched Archie as he scrambled off the bed and bolted down the stairs, and Betty scowled, cringing as she heard a crashing sound in his wake. Was Archie incapable of not breaking her parents’ things? 

 

“Are you okay?” She asked Jughead. “I mean, first Jason, now Archie…”

 

“Archie’s just lashing out because he knows we’re safe to lash out around,” Jughead muttered. “Jason’s a dick, but I’m sure he’s been fed all sorts of ridiculous lies from his mother and your father.” He shrugged. “What happened between you and your dad?”

 

“Nothing,” Betty lied. “I just don’t want to see him anymore. I don’t like how he treats my mother. He said some things about your dad that made me upset,” she allowed. “He always says things about them.” She shook her head. “We got into a fight because I let your dad take me to a dance at the community center instead of asking him...because Polly wanted him to take  _ her _ and I didn’t want to cause trouble and your dad said he wanted to go with me, even though it was a father-daughter dance, and I  _ know  _ he’s not my dad, and --”

 

“I don’t care if you think of him like that,” Jughead said, cutting her off mid-ramble. “Betts, it’s fine. He’s been there for you for almost six years. It makes sense that you would look at him like a father, especially when yours sucks so badly.”

 

“You’re not mad at me?” Her voice was small, and she focused on the bandages on her palms instead of looking at Jughead. 

 

“No,” he said. “I understand. I just wish…” 

 

“What, Juggie?”

 

“I wish I had had that chance with your mother,” he admitted, toying with the blanket. “Instead of being stuck in Toledo parenting my own parent. And Jelly…”

 

“It’s not going to be like that here,” Betty promised him. “Things will be different.”

 

“You think Alice would want that, though?” He asked. “Two more screwed up kids?”

 

“Mom loves you and Jelly,” she whispered. “She doesn’t think that you’re screwed up. I promise, Juggie.” She sighed. “If anyone’s screwed up, it’s me and Polly.”

 

Archie had returned, and was hovering awkwardly at the door. “It’s okay,” Betty said, beckoning. “You can come in.”

  
  


***

  
  


“What did you ask me?” FP questioned the Andrews boy, his brows raised. “Is this really an appropriate question to ask here?”

 

“Will you just answer him, Jonesy?” Alice asked, her eyes pleading. “I don’t know why he has this knowledge of why his parents are arguing about, but he said either he would ask you or I had to do an expose in the Register about it, and I do not want to write about something so...banal.”

 

“Of course I think your father has a pill problem,” he said, after a moment of arguing with Alice with his eyes. “You would have to be blind to not notice, Red. He faked an injury -- badly -- and was prescribed  _ prescription _ opiates. I’m not surprised the old lady has noticed.” He sighed. “Look, kid, he’s not a bad person. I just think he needs to get help.”

 

Archie scowled. “That’s what everyone else I asked said.”

 

“Who did you ask?” FP dreaded to know the answer. Archie wasn’t exactly a model of discretion. 

 

“Alice, Betty, and Jughead,” he said after a moment. “Well, Betty and Jughead shared their opinions without my asking,” he allowed. “But I asked Alice.”

 

“I see,” he said. “And Alice told you the exact same thing that they told you?”

 

“I used better English,” Alice said, her tone even. “Honestly, Jonesy, did you want me to lie to the kid? They aren’t as stupid as they look nowadays.”

 

“I wasn’t expecting you to lie,” he said. “I just don’t understand why you think my answer would be different, Red. Especially since I was the one who  _ told  _ your mother what he was doing in the first place.”

 

Alice raised an eyebrow at that confession, before taking a regal sip from her milkshake. 

 

“I didn’t know you did that,” she said. 

 

“I had to, Al,” he said. “It’s affecting his performance at work. Can you come look at the books soon? There are some discrepancies, and you know I’m not good at them.”

 

“You’re writing a book?” Jellybean asked. 

 

“It’s a business thing, Jelly,” he told her. “No, I’m not writing a book. I’m no writer, kid.” He ruffled her hair. “Look, Archie. I like your dad. He’s a good guy. I just don’t want him to go down a path he can’t get back from.”   
  


“I’ll come by tomorrow,” Alice said. “Hopefully I will look less hideous.”

 

“You don’t look hideous,” he assured her. “It’s barely noticeable.”

 

“I’m wearing  _ makeup _ , Jonesy. A lot of it,” she sighed. “I don’t want to set off the crew and have them all desire a chance to avenge me.” She pursed her lips. “I know how they are. That they mean well but…”

 

“You don’t have to wear that shit,” he said, leaning over the table to kiss her. “You’re beautiful, okay?”

 

“If you say so,” she replied. “I love you.”

 

“Love you too, babe,” he smirked. “This is nice, all of us having dinner together,” he said. “Where is Polly?”   
  


“Who knows?” Alice sighed. “We got into a fight, she’s with Cheryl and Jason.”   
  


“Look over there,” he said. “At who just walked in.”

 

“What?” She asked. “Who just walked in?”

 

“The devil’s threesome,” he muttered. “Polly and the flowers in the attic twins.”

 

“FP! Don’t joke about that, that is so appalling.” 

 

“What’s Flow--” Jellybean asked, and Alice fixed him with a glare, kicking him in the shin.

 

“Nothing, sweetie,” she said. “Daddy just means that Jason and Cheryl are close because they’re twins.” She smiled at FP. “Isn’t that right, Daddy?” FP wasn’t sure that facial expressions could kill a person, but he was mildly concerned. 

 

“Yeah, that’s what I meant,” he said easily. “Absolutely.”


	8. stocks and bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing here, Alice?” Mary demanded, and Alice rolled her eyes. “You can’t just walk into people’s houses.”

“For pity’s sake, Archibald,” Alice said, “would you just get out of the car, and go into that house?” 

 

“I don’t want to,” he mumbled. She rolled her eyes. “All they do is fight.”

 

“I don’t particularly want to be sitting here waiting for you to get bored of doing nothing in my station wagon,” she muttered. “You won’t want to do everything that you have to do in life, Archie, I’m sorry to have to tell you this. But, it’s true.” She sighed. “For example, I do not want to be sitting in front of  _ that house _ waiting for you to realize that whatever you think you can pull with me? Is not happening.”

 

Archie let out a loud sigh. “Will you walk me in?” She opened her mouth, prepared to refuse, but paused, noting the pained look on the boy’s face. Alice sighed. 

 

“Fine,” she said, regretting the words as they left her mouth, but doing so anyways. “I suppose that I can walk you to your front door,” she allowed. “I suppose I can wait with you until your parents welcome you into the house, and I suppose that if things are … incredibly uncomfortable, and I feel you will be unsafe with them --  _ my standards _ , not yours -- I will bring you home with me.” She sighed. “Come on, now, it will be alright.”

 

It had been awhile since Alice Jones had been seen on Elm Street, and she was sure that if she was noticed she would become the subject of neighborhood gossip. Alice normally begged off bringing Archibald to and from his home, but she had conceded on the occasion because Jellybean had expressed a desire for FP to be the one to handle the evening’s bedtime routine, and she couldn’t bring herself to admit to seven year old that she was scared of going on the street. She had been hoping that Fred or Mary could have approached responsibility and picked up their son, but, of course, Alice’s attempts to get one of them to do so had led to an impressively loud screaming match over the telephone, which, if she was honest about, had irritated her. 

 

It was just a house, after all, and houses were buildings. The house wasn’t what had hurt her. 

 

So, if Alice was gripping Archibald’s arm entirely too tightly, and if she had carelessly lit a cigarette despite her firm beliefs in not smoking around the children, it was just because it had been a trying day, and she did not want Archibald to run off. Absolutely. 

 

The lights were on at the Andrews’ house, and she could make out figures inside, which cheered her slightly, because that meant she could just deliver him to them and take her leave. Sure, a responsible parent would want to discuss the things that Archie had said, and normally Alice would, but she had decided she could be a responsible parent tomorrow, at FP’s office. Where, in the daylight, she would give Fred a piece of her mind. 

 

“Well, here we are,” she said, and she pressed the doorbell. “See? This isn’t that hard, is it?”

 

“They’re fighting,” Archie said, his tone sullen. “They’re not going to open the door.”

 

“Don’t be so ridiculous, Archibald,” Alice retorted. “Your parents will open the door, or I will open it for them.” She took a drag of her cigarette. “What makes you think they’re fighting?”

 

The night had been cold, by November standards, and Alice had dressed for the frigid temperatures, eschewing her Serpent jacket for a full length wool coat, which she had paired with a pair of earmuffs and leather gloves. She removed the earmuffs, determined to see if she could accurately assess the situation. 

 

It was true that Alice could hear voices -- raised ones at that -- but she thought that Archibald’s other claim, the one about his parents ignoring the doorbell, was ridiculous and unfounded. 

 

Still, not wanting to stay on the street any longer than she had to, she rang the doorbell again. 

 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Jones,” he said. “You can go home, I can wait by myself.”   
  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, removing her grip from his arm to absentmindedly ruffle his hair. “I can’t leave you waiting out here, in the cold. That would be negligent. I would have to write about myself in the paper! What if you froze?”

 

“I wouldn’t freeze,” Archie said. “I would just sleep in the old tree house. That’s what I do when things get really bad.”

 

“You do what?” She took a final drag of her cigarette, stubbing it out into an ashtray that sat on the front porch. She tried keeping her tone neutral. It would do no good for her to have a meltdown. Perhaps she was exaggerating what the boy was saying. She shivered. Not out of fear, but because it was cold out. 

 

“Sleep in Betty’s old tree house,” he repeated. “It’s still there.”   
  


“I will not have you sleeping in a treehouse,” Alice said, wanting to explode but forcing herself to be patient and kind to her children’s friend. “It is the middle of November! Thanksgiving is this Thursday! It looks like it might snow!” The voices inside the house grew louder, and Alice Jones found herself growing more and more annoyed. Was it really so taxing to take time away from fighting to open the damn fucking door? Apparently, it was, at least for Fred and Mary. She tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. “Come on, Archibald,” she said softly. “Let’s go in, and see what your plans for the evening will be.”

 

Fred and Mary’s house is essentially as Alice remembers it. It’s unfortunate that they didn’t bother redecorating in the years since Alice left Elm Street, left the Northside, because when Alice walks through the foyer into the living room, all she can see is the night that she told Hal that she was pregnant, that it was FP’s, and he’d  _ snapped _ and tried to kill her. She had ended up at the Andrews’ that night, and...it would have been nice for them to redecorate, at least once over the six year time period. But, it was what it was, and she was an adult that was capable of pushing past this for the sake of the child. 

 

She followed the sounds of the voices down the hall and into the kitchen, cringing at how well Fred and Mary’s voices traveled to be heard so clearly outdoors. Not that the couple noticed either of them. 

 

Alice did not have time for this, she decided. 

 

“Would the two of you shut up?” She demanded. “Honestly, whatever it is that the two of you are arguing about, could you please table it for a moment?”   
  


“What are you doing here, Alice?” Mary demanded, and Alice rolled her eyes. “You can’t just walk into people’s houses.”

 

“I don’t want to be in this house any more than you want me here,” she informed her. “Perhaps if you and Frederick didn’t insist on fighting so loudly, you would have heard my ringing your doorbell like a civilized being. What were the two of you arguing about? Fred’s little pill problem? Your late hours at work now that Sierra McCoy is our full time mayor? Please don’t tell me you are still arguing over who is picking up Archibald?” 

 

“And so what if we were, Alice?” Fred asked. 

 

“Okay, well, that conversation is over,” she said firmly. “See, I brought him home. He is getting his things, and then I am taking him back to my place, where he will be spending some quality time until the two of you figure whatever it is that you need to figure out out.” She turned to Archie. “Go get your things, Archibald. I’m not forcing you to deal with this.”

 

Archie, whom she quickly feared was the sole Andrews with any sense, took his leave. 

 

“This has to stop,” she said. “The constant arguing, whatever the hell is wrong with you, Fred, this behavior is unacceptable.”

 

“You have some nerve--”   
  


“I swear to you,” Alice said. “If you say one word about FP because I said that Fred has a pill problem, Mary? It will be the  _ last  _ thing you do. I know you’re all high and mighty because you made partner, but you aren’t allowed to belittle my husband. How dare you start with your comments when FP is the  _ only _ reason your husband still has a job? If he worked for me he would have been out the door the second time FP bailed him out of jail.”

 

“Now, Alice,” Fred said, and she fixed her gaze at him. “I have a back injury.”

 

“Right,” Alice said. “Which you obtained moving plywood.” She shook her head. “I don’t have time for this.”

 

She was getting a headache. 

 

“FP bailed you out of jail?” Mary demanded, her tone incredulous. 

 

“I don’t know what Alice is talking about,” he muttered. “She must have had a dream.”

 

“Oh, please,” she said. “Who do you think lovingly removed the incidents from the police blotter? That sure as hell wasn’t your pal Hal.”

  
Mary and Fred had sided with Hal during the divorce, and if it made Alice more than a bit irritated that Fred had also been screwing over FP  _ and _ making her out to look like a moron, well, she felt that was justified. How dare they? She didn’t care what they thought of her (Alice very rarely gave anyone’s opinions much thought), but she wasn’t going to let the two of them badmouth FP. He had done nothing to deserve that. 

 

“Three times,” she said. “Three times my husband has wasted money bailing you out, and you don’t even bother to tell your wife? What are you going to do, Fred? Hide everything from her? That’s a healthy marriage.”   
  


“You’ve been arrested  _ three  _ times? Is Alice telling the truth?”

 

“I don’t lie, Mary,” she said. “I take offense to the implication that I would.”

  
  


***

  
  


“Not a word, Jonesy,” Alice said, her sullen tone rivaling Archie’s as she shepherded the boy into the house, thoroughly vexed by his parents’ insanity. “Archibald, why don’t you go upstairs with your things and get settled in Jughead’s room? I need to speak with Mr. Jones, and it is a conversation that does not require your presence.”

 

“What the hell is that boy doing back here?” FP asked, and she sighed, crossing the room to where he stood. She stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips, before she tucked herself into his waiting embrace. “I don’t understand.”

 

“I wasn’t going to let him sleep in a treehouse, FP,” she muttered. “Which, by the way, by his own admittance, he has been doing.”

 

“What treehouse?” He asked. She looked up at him. 

 

“You remember, when you and Fred built that treehouse for Betty and Polly?” Alice asked softly, enjoying the feel of his arms around her. “You told me that if that was what the girls wanted you and Fred were perfectly willing to oblige them, even if Hal thought it was a waste of time?” He squeezed her tightly.

 

“Yeah, Allie,” he murmured. “I remember.”

 

“That’s the treehouse,” she said. “I remember how proud you were when you were finished with it, how much Elizabeth and her friends loved it.” She snuggled closer. “I still feel it’s not an appropriate sleeping space in general, let alone in the middle of a cold snap.”

 

“It was a sick treehouse,” he admitted. “But, you’re right, Alice. Why the hell is he doing that?”

 

“Because of the fighting. I can’t honestly blame him. I mean. Really. They were obnoxious.”

 

“What were they fighting about?” His hold on her tightened, and she felt him brush a kiss to the top of her head. “Wanna tell me?”

 

“Amazingly, they were still arguing about who was going to pick up Archibald,” she said, rolling her eyes. “When I told them I had decided that for them, by way of dropping him off myself, it became open season on me.”

 

“What? Fred talked shit about you?”

 

“Not Fred,” she said. “Mary. By the way, Mary now knows that Fred has a criminal record. It appears that while we were wasting our money keeping him out of the slammer, he was neglecting to inform her of this.” 

 

FP chuckled, his fingers deftly running through her hair. “How did she find out, Allie?”

 

“It may have slithered out,” she allowed. “You know us snakes, we bite when provoked.”

 

“Gosh, you? My sweet Alice? Provoked? Never.”

 

“I know,” she purred. “It’s so...unfortunate. Normally I’m so...merciful.” She shifted slightly, “Anyways, I decided having Archibald staying with us versus in an unheated tree house in the middle of November was the lesser of two loathsome options.” She sighed. “At least here he won’t freeze to death.” 

 

“I guess I’ll talk to Fred tomorrow,” FP said. “I’m sure that will go well.”   
  


“No, darling,” she said, catching his wrist. “I will be speaking to Fred tomorrow. Remember? I am wasting my valuable time going over your books?”

 

“Thought we’d spend that time doing something more worthy of our time, if you get my drift?” FP’s hand, which had previously been on her waist, had dipped dangerously lower. “But, I’ll be honest, angry you is kinda a turn on.” 

 

“Well, prepared to be very turned on after I get through with Fred tomorrow,” she muttered. “Did Charlotte and Forsythia go to sleep alright?”   
  


He gave her another kiss. “Yeah, of course,” he said. “They’re good kids.”

 

“Has Margaret graced us with her presence?” She asked, weary. 

 

“Nope,” he said. “Want me to call her?”   
  


“Why put yourself through that?” Alice asked softly, her eyes wide. “That would be cruel to you. No, I am tired of arguing with her. She can come home or not come home. I’m not dealing with it today.”    
  


“I don’t really blame you,” he murmured, moving his hand from where it had cupped her ass to her back, rubbing circles with his fingers. “Wanna just head to bed?”

 

“Not with those three still awake,” she said. “If we go to sleep, they will never do so.” She paused, before she corrected herself. “Well, maybe Elizabeth would. I don’t think the same of Archibald and Jughead.”

 

“You might be right,” he allowed. “I am so sorry, Alice. What a mess.”

 

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Jonesy.” She squeezed his arm. “It’s not your fault the world seems to be headed to hell.” She cleared her throat. “But, you’re right. I’m going to go get ready for bed, at the very least. Get all this makeup off. Change into something more comfortable.” She smirked. “You’re welcome to join me, if you want.”

 

“You know there’s no  _ if _ , Alice,” he said, his tone rich with lust as he released his hold on her. “Goddamn, baby, I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” she assured him, feeling a faint flush cover her cheeks. “More than you know, Jonesy.” She took him by the hand, linking her fingers through his, and started walking in the direction of the stairs. “It’s going to be okay, no matter what happens.” 

 

The walk upstairs was quiet, the silence only punctuated by the three teenagers who were, as Alice had predicted, decidedly not preparing for rest. She supposed it was uncharitable to expect them to drift right off to sleep, even though she wanted to table the conversation about their temporary houseguest until the morning. She was frankly exhausted by the disaster the entire day had been. 

 

“Oh, screw it,” she said. “They can have one night where they don’t get any rest. Tomorrow they can all just skip school.”   
  


“Are you feeling okay?” FP asked her. 

 

“I don’t have the energy to deal with them anymore,” she said. “Twenty questions can wait.”


	9. closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not you I worry about, sweetheart,” he said, and he clapped her shoulder as he passed. “I mean it, Red, behave yourself, especially around my daughter.” His tone was lightly casual, excluding the bite in the threat to Archie, but being referred to as FP’s daughter had pretty much made Betty’s entire morning. Archie, of course, looked confused.

“My God, Mom, your face,” Betty exclaimed, taking a good look at what her mother looked at, while she and FP sat at the breakfast table, the day’s copy of the Register in front of them and a half eaten bowl of what appeared to be  _ cereal _ in front of each adult. “You look terrible.”   
  


“Thank you, Elizabeth,” Alice said dryly. “I didn’t realize.”   
  
“You didn’t realize that you had a giant bruise on your face?” Archie asked, clearly missing her mother’s sarcasm. Betty shot him a glare. He missed that too. “It looks pretty bad, Mrs. J. Maybe you need new glasses?”

 

“Never you mind, Archibald,” she said. “Why are the two of you up so early?”

 

“We have to go to school, Mom,” she said. “Why do you think?”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about school,” Alice said breezily. “I told them you were all sick. You three have fun doing whatever it is that you young people do during the school day.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard the woman,” FP said. “Today is a day for the three of you to have fun.”

 

Betty gaped. “When Dad hit you, did he give you a concussion? Why would you want us to miss school?”

 

Alice peered at her, and Betty felt like she was missing some joke or something. She was so confused. 

 

“I’m turning over a new leaf, Elizabeth,” she said. “Do try to keep up.” She sighed. “What are you looking at, Archibald?”

 

Betty followed Archie’s gaze, her eyes catching on a trail of what looked to be  _ hickeys _ trailing down her mother’s neck to parts...mercifully hidden from Betty’s eyes by the pajamas Alice was wearing. 

 

“I get that he punched you in the face,” Archie said slowly. “But did he burn you with a curling iron?”

 

“Archie!” Betty exclaimed. “That is inappropriate! What is wrong with you?”

 

“I’m just confused, Betty,” he said. “How else could those have gotten there?”

 

“You can’t just ask my mother these things!” She insisted. “I know you know those didn’t come from a  _ curling iron _ , you can’t possibly be that stupid! This is not an appropriate thing to ask my  _ parents _ .” 

 

Archie looked confused. Betty wanted to smack him. Her mother and FP looked amused by the situation. 

 

“You’ll understand when you’re older, boy,” FP said, leaning over to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. “Much older. Married, even.”

 

“What…?”   
  


“They’re hickeys, Archie,” Betty said flatly. “Not injuries from a curling iron.”

 

It was painful watching the implications dawning on Archie, and Betty cringed inwardly as he sat down at the table with her mother and FP, recognizing full well that she would be required to join them. She sat down beside Archie, trying to not acknowledge the matching smirks on the adults’ faces. 

 

“What are you two planning on doing today?” She asked warily. 

 

“It’s take your wife to work day today,” her mother said. “I will be celebrating with a rare visit to the construction site.”

 

“Won’t my mom be there too?” 

 

“It’s a holiday through the church,” Alice purred. “You know your parents never attend.” Betty watched as her mother eyed Archie and her with wide, innocent, eyes, and she wondered if Alice Jones actually thought anyone believed that the Catholic Church had invented a holiday entitled “take your wife to work day’. She saw through her mother’s attempts to evade honesty with her. They hadn’t been to church since Polly had come home from the Sisters, anyways. “So, no, Archibald, to answer your question, I do not believe your mother will be there.”

 

“That makes sense,” Archie said dutifully. “I mean, even if it was a thing for everyone, it’s not like they like each other very much right now.” He shrugged. “What happened last night, that’s nothing new. You remember --”

 

“I remember every sadistic memory I have of that street, Archibald,” she said. “If you think your parents’ fighting is anything earth shattering to me, I have news for you.” Betty’s eyes locked on the pack of cigarettes that her mother was fiddling with, but said nothing. “Elizabeth, as you can see, we have a houseguest,” she continued. “Archibald will be staying with us...indefinitely.” Her mother looked as if she was sucking on a lemon at the thought. “Since the two of you are up,” she sighed. “Let me get ready to leave and then I’ll make you something to eat.”   
  


“You should wake Jug, babe,” her stepfather interjected, and she watched him catch her mother’s wrist as she stood, trying not to be jealous of the fact that her mother allowed him to be so casually affectionate. Sure, Betty understood why Alice was no longer the overly affectionate mother that she’d been in slowly faded memories, but it still sort of stung. “May as well, right?”

 

“Sure, Jonesy, that sounds good,” she said, and Betty watched as she released his hand, and she tried to hide the shock on her face as her mother leaned over the table to press a kiss to her forehead, unprompted. She wondered if Alice could read minds. 

 

_ That _ was a frightening thought, Betty thought to herself. She did not think that anyone wanted Alice Jones to be capable of that, even the woman herself. 

 

“I love you, Elizabeth,” Alice said softly. “I hope you know that.”   
  
“Of course I know, Mom,” she assured her. “I love you, too.” She watched as Alice strode out of the kitchen, as if she was the belle of the ball and not a small-town mother dressed in pajamas. It was practically impossible for Alice to not put on airs in front of people, though, and she supposed Archie was considered a person. As her mother’s footsteps faded away, Betty turned back to the table, and let out a sigh. It appeared that Alice had decided chain smoking with FP was an acceptable substitute for a proper meal, judging by the lack of progress that had been made with her cereal, and it made Betty glad that she had woken up and dragged Archie downstairs with her. 

 

“What happened yesterday?” She asked Archie quietly. “Do you know?”   
  


“Obviously your dad popped her one,” he said. Betty resisted rolling her eyes. FP glared at him. “What? Betty asked?”

 

“Boy, she wasn’t talking about that, and you know it,” he growled, his tone low. “I swear to God, Andrews, if you set Alice off running your stupid mouth, you will be sleeping in that treehouse. What the hell did your mother say to her?”

 

“Mom doesn’t like Alice,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Says she had her chance to get out and she blew it.”

 

“There has to be more,” FP retorted. Betty had to agree. Mrs. Andrews could be cruel, but Alice was on that level of banalities on the regular. 

 

“She got mad that she wanted to take me home,” Archie allowed. “Said that it was typical of her to burst in in the middle of the night and ‘inconvenience her’, not that I know what that means.”

 

Betty thought that she had an inkling, and it was clear by the expression that crossed over FP’s face he was thinking the same. 

 

“Archie,” she said gently, not wanting to have her friend traumatized by FP verbally exploding at him. “This would have been something important to mention to  _ anyone _ last night, or...today, even.” 

 

“Why?”   
  


“I’m going to go check on your mother,” FP muttered. “I’ll be back. You two better behave.”

 

“I always do,” Betty assured him. “Don’t worry about me.”

 

“Not you I worry about, sweetheart,” he said, and he clapped her shoulder as he passed. “I mean it, Red, behave yourself, especially around my daughter.” His tone was lightly casual, excluding the bite in the threat to Archie, but being referred to as FP’s daughter had pretty much made Betty’s entire morning. Archie, of course, looked confused. 

 

“I always behave around Jellybean and Lottie,” he mumbled, voice filled with sleep. “What’re you talking about?”

 

“I meant Betty, here,” he corrected. “She’s just as good as.” Betty beamed. Archie blinked. FP squeezed her shoulder again. “Your mom,” he said. “I gotta go.”

 

“Why did he call you that?” Archie asked, once they were alone. “Don’t you have a dad?”

 

“Are you serious?” Betty queried. She had limitedless patience for Archie’s stupidity, but this was extreme even for her. “My father, who goes around slugging my mother in public for funsies? My father, who should have been  _ arrested  _ for what he did to my mother that night she was ‘such an inconvenience’ to yours, but who wasn’t because your mother made herself his fucking attorney and got him off? You think that man is my dad? Are you insane?” She shot him a look. “I mean, that’s not even including the things that he did to me and to Polly,” she added. “So, no, Archie, Hal Cooper is  _ not _ my dad. FP is. He has  _ never _ hurt my mother, and he has never hurt me.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he actually sounded chastised, which was a miracle, as far as Betty was concerned. “I didn’t know.”

 

“Yeah, well, that’s what your mother did,” she said flatly. “Setting me up for a lifetime of digging my nails into my palms and Polly up for a lifetime of being just like Hal Cooper.” She shook her head. “It’s not your fault,” she muttered. “You have nothing to do with what she does.”

 

“I can still be sorry,” he said. 

 

“What you can do is not purposely set my mother off while you’re staying here,” she corrected. “That’s what you can do, Archie. It’s really hard for my mom have you here, and you need to acknowledge and respect that, and not...have this morning repeated, okay?”

 

Archie nodded, and she decided to accept that as his agreement, even though she was still beyond irritated with her oldest friend. He was unbelievably obtuse. Sometimes it got the best of Betty. No matter how hard she tried.

 

“Morning,” Jughead said, in their general direction, as he stumbled into the kitchen, blinking at the sunlight that was peeking in through the window. “Alice said that she was making food.”   
  


“I said that I was  _ going  _ to be making food, Jughead,” her mother corrected. “Do you really think I would leave the stove unattended with Archibald downstairs? That would be a grease fire waiting to happen.”

 

All traces of the angry mark her father had left on her mother’s face had disappeared, cloaked behind a mask of makeup, though the rest of Alice Jones’ outfit was shockingly casual. It was what Betty would wear to the construction site, not what her appearance-conscious mother would leave the house in, certainly not to put in an appearance at FP’s work. Memories of Alice deriding her and Polly for leaving the house in jeans flitted through Betty’s mind, though, she had the sense not to repeat them out loud, unlike Archie, Elizabeth Cooper had a working filter. She didn’t even know her mother  _ owned _ a flannel shirt, though, upon closer inspection, it appeared to be her stepfather’s. She decided to table the concern over this bizarre clothing decision, at least for the moment. If dressing casually made Alice feel better, it was fine with her. 

 

FP followed behind the twosome, also dressed for a day at the construction site. 

 

“Want help, babe?” 

 

Alice raised a brow. “No, FP, I don’t really feel that cooking is an area you excel in,” she said. “I think I’m good. Elizabeth, you’re welcome to join me, if you want.”   
  


Betty really didn’t want to, but she accepted the invitation wordlessly. Sometimes it was easier to concede to Alice’s whims instead of putting up a fight. Plus, if she was honest, she was still annoyed at Archie and his inability to think. So, she stood, and followed Alice over to the stove. 

 

“Is there a reason you’re dressed like this?” She asked, after several moments of preparing food in silence. “All...casual?”

 

“Half of this cesspool of a town saw your moron of a father beat me in public yesterday, Elizabeth. I’m tired of pretending to be something that I’m not. Perfect,” her mother said, as she made eggs and bacon, having left the pancakes in Betty’s capable hands. “I’m not perfect, sweetheart, and I’m so damn tired of pretending. Especially when that jackass does things like hitting me in the middle of town, like we’re  _ animals _ or something.”   
  


“And this has nothing to do with what Mrs. Andrews said to you last night?” Betty dared to tread.

 

Alice rolled her eyes. “Mary Andrews has never liked me,” she muttered. “No,” she said. “FP said that he...liked how I looked in this.” Betty suspected her mother was paraphrasing, but let this slide, not wanting to hear what specificities FP had found attractive. “And, well, I like looking good for him.” 

 

“Okay, Mom,” Betty said, as she flipped the pancakes. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” She gave her a hug. “And, I’m sorry about what happened yesterday.”

 

“It’s okay,” Alice said. “Not your fault. I’ll be alright. I promise.”

  
  


***

  
  


“Are there actually discrepancies in your books?” FP heard Alice ask him as she perched on his office desk, actually wearing something that didn’t make her look hilariously out of place at the construction office, even if the shirt she was wearing was his. “Or was this some ploy of yours to get me alone in here so you could bend me over backwards on this desk?”   
  


“Six of one, half dozen of the other,” he admitted, his tone unabashed. He knew that Alice knew how much he loved her, how much he wanted her, and he had to admit that the thought of re-christening the office of Jones-Andrews Construction was  _ unbelievably _ tempting. “I guess I don’t really know,” he added. “I just think it’s strange that all of a sudden Fred wanted to take them over.” 

 

“I agree,” she said, patting the desk beside her, and he chuckled softly before sitting down. “I find that very disconcerting. Where is our hometown hero, by the way?”   
  


“Who the hell knows, Al?” He murmured, as he settled his head on her shoulder. “Kinda glad it’s just the two of us for a little,” he admitted. “You have to admit we haven’t experienced that lately at home.”

 

“It is nice, Jonesy,” she said, and he wrapped his arms around her. “But it’s nice to have the kids all together, isn’t it? I’m so sorry about Polly, and Archie.”   
  


“Nah, babe, don’t be sorry,” he whispered. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s gonna all be okay.” 

 

FP wasn’t entirely certain if he believed that anything was going to be okay, but Alice was...he knew that Alice needed the reassurance that things weren’t going to be the end of the world, that she hadn’t failed as a wife, or as a parent, or whatever negative thought had wandered into her pretty blonde head as that moment in time. He  _ loved _ Alice, and that included the steamer trunk full of her issues that came attached with her, issues that may have stemmed partly from Hal, but had  _ definitely _ existed in some form, possibly dormant, before he’d broken her. Maybe she’d never be fixed. He knew that was a possibility. But she was still Alice, the woman he’d been in love with since they’d been two stupid twelve year olds, making the best of the hand they’d been dealt living on the Southside. He loved her so much. 

 

“You’ve always thought that,” she said. “Even when there was no hope for me at all.”   
  


“Allie,” he said. “There was always hope for you.” He deftly lifted her up so he could settle her on his lap. “I swear to you. There will always be hope for you.” He tilted her chin upward, and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Love you, you know that, right?”   
  


“I love you, too,” she said, a smile tugging on her lips. “I’m glad that Jughead and Jellybean are back,” she added. “I know you’ve wanted that for awhile.”   
  


“Never thought it would happen,” he admitted. “Probably wouldn’t have if she hadn’t croaked.”   
  


“You deserve this,” she said. “I know how much you missed them when they lived in Toledo, how much they missed you. And, I know what a good dad you are, not just to your biological children, but to my daughters as well.” She kissed him again, and he felt her run her hands through his hair. “I can’t thank you enough for loving me enough to love them, and I am sorry that Polly’s been so rude to you lately. I don’t know what her issue is.”

 

“I told you, babe,” he whispered, as he inched his hand down her side to settle on her hip. “I knew that you, and those girls, were a package deal. Just because their sperm donor should have been rotting in prison years ago doesn’t take away from the fact that they’re  _ our  _ daughters, even if Polly is acting out lately. That doesn’t change the fact that even if they never call me dad, they’re like my own, same as I know Jug and Jelly are for you.” He chuckled. “You know what Bean told me last night? Kid wants a baby brother.” 

 

“Forsythia has decided that she thinks we should expand our family?” Alice asked, her tone curious. “What do you think of this?”

 

“I wouldn’t care if it was a girl,” he admitted. “Wouldn’t it be nice, though, babe? One we planned out?”

 

“I’d love that,” she whispered. “You’d be here for everything.”   
  


“Wouldn’t miss it,” he promised. “Every last minute.”   
  


“Come here,” she beckoned. “Gimme a kiss.” 

 

“Happy to oblige, Alice,” he assured her, as their lips met, in a much more sensual kiss than their previous ones had been. He deepened the kiss, tangling his fingers in her hair, as what he had intended to be semi-safe-for-work had turned into something bordering on not at  _ all _ safe for work. Fine by him. The workers were at their job site, and Fred was nowhere to be found. And, they had just decided to try for another baby. If Alice was willing to screw propriety to essentially screw him through his clothing, who was he to say no. “I thought we were doing this after the books?”   
  


“This is just a preview, Jonesy,” she murmured breathily. “Just think...when the baby’s on the way, I’ll want you like this all the time.”

 

“Yeah, babe,” he said huskily, twirling a tendril of her hair. “Damn do I remember that from when you had Lottie in your belly.” He kissed her again. “Gettin’ you all  _ frustrated _ and shit?” Alice giggled. “What a thing for a man to hear when he’d just gotten out of a program.”

 

“Of course I was frustrated,” she said. “There was only so much I could do by myself.” 

 

He licked his lips. “Don’t worry,” he promised, “You won’t need to do it on your own. I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

“Don’t lie,” she said. “You like watching me.”

 

“Well, of course I do,” he admitted, unabashedly. “You’re my woman, it’s hot. Really sexy.” FP wasn’t going to lie. “Just...I’ll never turn you down.”

 

“I know,” she said. “Jonesy?”   
  


“Yeah?”   
  


“What is that noise?” 

 

“What noise?” He asked, glancing at her. “What are you talking about?” It was possible that some of Jughead’s hearing loss was inherited, he supposed, though it was equally possible that Alice had supersonic hearing. 

 

“Sirens,” she said. “In the --” Alice cut herself off abruptly, and covered her mouth with one hand, pointing towards the door. “Dear Lord,” she breathed. “What the hell happened?”   
  


“I’m not here,” he heard Fred say, his tone rather loud and his words somewhat slurred. “Neither of you ever saw me, not even you, Alice.”

 

“You’re hurt,” she said. “Jonesy, he’s bleeding.”

 

“Wait a minute,” FP said, turning around to glance in the direction of Alice’s gaze. It appeared that her assessment was correct. Fred  _ was _ bleeding. He was bleeding a lot. “What the hell, Fred? Why do you look like you lost a fight?”

 

“They’re after me,” he said. “Keller and his goons. They think I’m drunk.”

 

“They  _ think _ you’re drunk, Frederick?” Alice asked, her tone managing to be both disappointed and bored. “They couldn’t have used your context clues to confirm that?”

 

“Wait,” he said. “Alice, stop. Are you telling me that you...ran from the cops?”

 

“I didn’t  _ run _ , FP,” Fred said. “The truck was still mostly driveable, so I drove it away from the accident.”

 

“The...accident?” Alice asked, and he decided to go with it. “What do you mean?”

 

“They said I hit someone,” he divulged. “They’re full of it. I just...drifted off for a second. That’s all.”

 

“Keller said that you  _ hit someone _ and you  _ left the scene _ ? Fred, that’s a  _ felony _ , a damn hit and run.” 

 

“I think he’s wearing his windshield,” she commented. “I don’t remember him being so shiny before.”

 

Alice tugged him off of his desk, holding his hand tightly as she dragged him across the room to his -- apparently felonious -- business partner. The sirens -- which FP could now hear in the distance -- were drawing closer, and he turned the office television up in an attempt to drown out the sound. This was bullshit. He was  _ definitely _ not covering for Fred. 

 

Fortunately, the television was playing some channel that Lottie liked, so turning the volume up to deafening  _ did _ make outside sounds less noticeable. Beside him, Alice pursed her lips, and she gave Fred an appraising glance. 

 

“You need to be seen by a medical professional,” she told him, after a moment. “You need to go to the Sheriff and turn yourself in, and you need to be treated. At the  _ very  _ least for those cuts. There’s glass in them.”   
  


There was a knock on the door, and FP advanced in the direction of Fred, prepared to tackle him if he tried to run. Alice undid what remained of her ponytail and strode over to the door to open it, the very picture of cool and collected. 

 

“Hello, Tom,” he heard her say. “I’m assuming this isn’t a follow up on our previous encounter?” 

  
  



	10. bad blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sorry, Mrs. Jones,” he said, tone apologetic. “Kevin’s dad thought I was on my way over to hang out with everyone. I don’t know why he was so concerned.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Kevin’s father is our Sheriff, Joaquin. I believe being concerned for others is a great part of his job.”
> 
>  
> 
> “When he’s not making up lies about my dad,” Archie mumbled.

Alice surveyed the scene in front of her, making note of Fred’s smashed up truck that she was frankly surprised he’d been capable of driving at all, and making note of the Sheriff and his deputies peering inside of the truck, as if they were going to find their little escape artist in the vehicle he had used to complete a  _ hit and run _ in. She supposed that she couldn’t  _ blame _ them. She would be charitable. She was capable of doing so. 

 

“Tom,” she repeated, her tone commanding. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’ll be over to speak to you in a minute,” he said, his tone distracted. “We’re searching for --”

 

“Oh, don’t be so naive,” she drawled. “I know who you’re looking for.”   
  


“What?” 

 

“You’re looking for Fred, aren’t you?” She drawled, wrinkling her nose as she took in the state of the path Fred had taken from the truck to the office, wondering how much time she’d need to clean the blood off. “Who are these people?”    
  


“We’re from Greendale Police, Ma’am,” one of the strangers said. “We’re terribly sorry to bother you at work.”   
  


Alice raised a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t work here,” she said, tone smooth. “I work for the paper.”

 

“Alice is the owner of the Riverdale Register,” Tom interjected. “Is Fred here, Alice?”   
  


“Not in that truck,” she said. “He’s inside, getting blood and other debris all  _ over _ the wall to wall carpeting in there.” She sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. “That will be fun to clean. Did you know? Blood? Particularly difficult to get out of carpeting. It may be a helpful tip given what you men do for a living.”

 

“How do you know that?” The stranger from Greendale asked.    
  


“I’m a mother,” she said. “We know these things.” She flipped her hair over her shoulders. “Or, did you mean, how did I know about Fred? He’s in there ‘hiding’ from all of you. As if I would ever be complicit in something so banally idiotic.” She smiled. “I will, of course, require statements from all of you.”   
  


“Why?” He asked. 

 

“Obviously so I can write about it for tomorrow’s edition of the Register, Officer…Greendale,” she explained. “How else would  _ anyone _ know anything about what happens in this podunk town?” 

 

“Alice, we really need to speak to Fred,” Tom added. “Are you going to let us in?”

 

“I’m not stopping you,” she said, a sweet smile on her lips. “If you think I’m hiding one of the Andrews from you, you have another thing coming, because I  _ won’t _ be party to flouting the law to help  _ people like them _ , and I hope that you know that, Sheriff. FP and I may run the Serpents, but we’re no criminals.”

 

“Okay, Alice.”

 

“People like what?” His Greendale counterpart asked. 

 

“I don’t need to answer to you,” she said, tone smooth and eyes flashing. “I’m not the moron that rolled his truck and tried to cover up his fleeing the scene of a crime so badly that my kindergartener could put the clues together.” 

 

Sheriff Keller sighed. “I really don’t think that we need to interrogate Mrs. Jones,” he said. “She’s probably better at interrogating us.” 

 

“Only probably?” She queried, her tone wistful and her eyes wide. “I’ll need to do better. Thanks for the tip.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on, gentlemen. Your missing criminal awaits.”

 

Not waiting for the officers of the law to follow (Alice felt that waiting for others was beneath her, especially if they were figures of authority that saw fit to think they were above hers (they would learn)), Alice turned on her heels (okay, they were really work boots, what could she say, she was  _ committed _ to FP’s fantasy of Alice the construction worker), and stalked back up the stairs into the trailer that the office was in, a bit annoyed that the police officers had actually taken her up on her offer to reintroduce them to Fred. 

 

“This moron,” she said, directing her comments to FP, who was blocking the moron’s exit, “has gotten both the Sheriff  _ and _ Greendale police involved in his latest stunt. I will give you  _ one chance _ to change that story that you just fed us, Fred, before I just ask your new group of followers.” 

 

“Greendale?” FP repeated. “What the  _ hell _ were you doing?”

 

“Where  _ else  _ am I supposed to get my pills filled on time?” Fred asked. “If I got them filled here they’d start asking too many questions.”

 

“What  _ happened _ in Greendale?” Alice repeated. “Answer the damn question, Fred. Because, if you think that I won’t find out, you have another thing coming.” She really wanted to smoke a cigarette. “Bear in mind, that I saw your truck. And if you  _ think _ you didn’t hit someone, why on  _ earth _ does it look like that? You are getting more blood on that floor. Get him off of the carpet.”

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fred said. “You think that you can act so high and mighty, Alice?”

 

“Fred!” FP exclaimed. “You can’t come bursting in here followed by the police force of  _ two _ communities and expect myself and Allie to be anything resembling happy with you. What is  _ wrong _ with you?”

 

“I need some air,” she muttered. 

 

“Mr. Andrews,” the Sheriff tried to interject. “You know you have the  _ right _ to remain silent, right? You really shouldn’t so readily incriminate yourself --”

 

“You’re all full of shit,” Fred snapped. “Alice and FP with their  _ oh Fred has a pill problem  _ and you and the Greendale police making such a  _ huge deal _ about a hardworking man nodding off behind the wheel and  _ tapping _ another car.” Alice’s eyes widened. “You want to know whose fault this is? It’s  _ hers _ ,” he said. “She got all  _ pissed off _ last night because Mary and I didn’t pick up Archie on time and told  _ my wife _ how  _ he _ spent  _ their money _ ‘bailing my ass out of jail’  _ three times _ , because Heaven forbid she not constantly have the upper hand--”

 

“That’s  _ enough _ , Fred,” she heard FP say, not that she could really hear much of anything over the rising sense of panic that grew with every comment the other man made about her, in that tone that Hal had loved so much. “Lay  _ off _ Alice, okay? You want to bring up last night? Is that what you want to do?” 

 

“Can you just be  _ quiet _ Fred?” 

 

“I have to agree with Alice,” Tom said. “Being quiet would be to your benefit here, Fred, if you would just come with us--”

 

“You have always had issues with me and Mary!” Fred continued. “Like you’ve been too good for us since your divorce--”

 

“Too good for you?” Alice demanded, the rage that filled her at the comment overruling the fact that she was seconds away from a panic attack. “Is that what you think this is about? I’m too good for you? What about how you and your  _ wife _ banded together to make sure that the man who wanted to  _ murder _ me never saw a day in jail? Was Hal misunderstood, Fred? Did he  _ accidentally _ strangle me? Just like you accidentally drove away from the scene of an accident?” 

 

“Allie--”

 

“No, Jonesy, I am so tired of this,” she said. “Yes, we were friends before I divorced Harold,” she explained, crossing the room to look Fred in the eyes, though that was mainly because it enabled her to hold on to FP’s arm for dear life. “And, yes, I do think I’m better than you. I think I’m better than  _ everyone in this room _ , Fred, with the exception of Jonesy.” She shook her head. “But thinking that I’m too good for you is  _ not  _ why I stopped associating with you. That was because when FP here thought his supposed best friend might help out the mother of his unborn child while he was indisposed, you and Mary left me  _ alone _ because why, Fred? Why was Hal the one you two picked? Was I really that  _ horrible _ that what he did to me was okay?”   
  


The cops from Greendale looked vaguely horrified. Alice dug her nails into FP’s shirtsleeve. 

 

“He needed a lawyer!” 

 

“Shut up, Fred.” 

 

“Speaking of lawyers--” 

 

“Good luck finding one,” she snapped. “I’ll see that no one legitimate in this town takes you on.”

 

“Fred, you know that the charges against you are  _ serious _ , right?” Sheriff Keller interjected, as FP released his hold on Fred in favor of pulling her closer to him. “This isn’t a time for you to try to pin the blame on what you did on Alice Jones.” 

 

“Mary went through the house and threw out  _ all  _ of my prescriptions!” He explained. “I had no choice. I needed them replaced.” 

 

“So you  _ left the scene of a hit and run _ because Mary threw out your prescriptions?” FP demanded, though Alice appreciated the efforts he was making to keep his voice  _ quietly _ demanding, which was a nice change from all of the shouting everyone else thought was needed around her. “Jesus, Fred, what the fuck have I been posting your bail for?”

 

“Because everyone else thinks I have a problem,” he snapped. “They’re out to get me.”

 

“Can you please be quiet?” Alice requested, barely recognizing the sound of her own voice. “Just shut up, Fred. Stop sounding so angry.” She felt her husband hold her closer, the contact with him relaxing her incrementally. “I won’t apologize for what happened last night. I don’t have to, and you can’t make me. You don’t control me.” 

 

“Sheriff?” She heard FP ask. “Is it...can I get her out of here?”

 

Sheriff Keller must have said something in the affirmative, because, the next thing Alice knew, she was being lifted into FP’s arms, and he was carrying her out of the office, away from Fred and the cops, and the scene of her utter humiliation. “It’s okay, Al,” she heard him say, his voice soft and gentle. “It’s gonna be alright. He won’t say those things to you again.”

 

“I’m  _ sorry _ , Jonesy,” she managed to say, blinking back the tears that had formed in her eyes when Fred had started saying those horrible things. “Everyone was shouting.”

 

“Listen, Alice,” he said. “You are not the one who needs to apologize. That’s on Fred. Not you. Never you.” She sniffled loudly. “Do you want me to stay with you?” He continued, as Alice got her bearings and realized she was in the bed of his pickup truck, thankfully parked out of earshot from the surely still ranting Fred. “Because I will, if you want. And if you want to be alone, I’ll accept that.”

 

“Stay,” she whispered. “Wait. It’s cold out. Get a blanket from the cab and we can cuddle.”   
  


“Sure, Allie,” he agreed. “Whatever will make you feel better.”

 

“You,” she assured him. “You will.”

  
  


***

  
  


“You warm enough?” FP asked Alice. “You’re shaking,” he added. “So I wasn’t sure…”   
  


“It’s the adrenaline,” she whispered. “I’m not cold. I’m just crashing. You brought out like...five blankets, Jonesy,” she added, a ghost of a smile on her face. “And you tucked us in. How could I possibly be cold with you being so sweet?”

 

FP himself had adrenaline coursing through his veins, though he was trying his best to stop himself from appealing to his baser instincts by going back over to where Fred was and beating the fuck out of him, police presence be damned. Alice needed him, though, and he knew that. Beating Fred up would feel good, at least in the moment, but he couldn’t do that to her, or to their children. So, he pushed his desire to sucker punch Fred to the side, and he stretched out in the bed of the cab, knowing that Alice probably wanted to cling to him. He didn’t mind. 

 

“Careful, Al,” he warned, as he twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. “We wouldn’t want my reputation as the Serpent King to turn into the Serpent Teddy Bear, would we, now?”

 

“Oh, Jonesy. It’s cute that you think that you’re the one that they’re scared of,” she said, tracing her fingers where his tattoo was, even though it was hidden by a shirt. “We both know they’re afraid of me.”

 

He smirked. “I know, babe.” 

 

“Do you really want to have another baby?” She asked, her tone quiet. “With me, with this whole...this?”   
  


“More than anything,” he assured her. “You’re my wife, Allie. I love you. I don’t think that you’re broken. And I want to make another baby with you.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Fuck, I would say we could start right now if the cops weren’t literally right there.”

 

“That would be kinda hot, wouldn’t it?” She mused. “I think we could be quiet enough, don’t you? We do have five children, it’s not like we  _ have _ to be loud to have fun.” 

 

“You feel up to it?” 

 

She grinned wickedly at him. “Always, Jones.” 

 

“I love you, baby,” he murmured, fumbling with the button on her jeans. “Let’s make a baby.” He kissed her tenderly. “You should keep the shirt on,” he suggested, tugging on the hem of the flannel. “You look fuckin’ hot in it.” 

 

“Just the shirt, Jonesy?” 

 

“Yeah,” he said, licking his lips as he gazed down at her, clad in only his flannel, her bra and underwear having joined the discarded boots and jeans in the corner of the truck’s bed. “Fuck, Allie, you’re hot. And mine, all mine.” 

 

“You like what you see, eh?” She asked, the tears that had been in her eyes replaced by a look of lust. Damn straight he liked what he saw. “I think you can lose the shirt,” she added playfully. “I think you’re  _ very _ sexy.”

 

Maybe it wasn’t the greatest sex that he and Alice had ever had, but sex was sex, and sex in the bed of his truck while the Sheriff and his cronies were on the same premises? Fuck, FP had  _ never _ thought that Alice would have gone for it. He was glad that she had, though. 

 

He tugged her close to him, shifting so that the blankets were covering both of them. “Feel okay, mama?” 

 

“Yeah,” she said, as she laid her head on his chest. “That was fun, Jonesy. I don’t think we’ve ever had sex so close to so many cops before.”   
  


He chuckled. “Probably never had the opportunity to,” he murmured into her hair, being mindful of the presence of the law enough to have hastily reclothed after their quickie, the same could not be said for Alice, who was still only in his shirt. “C’mon, babe, get dressed,” he encouraged. “Don’t really think you want to write your own arrest report about a public nudity charge.”

 

She giggled, slipping the so easily discarded clothes back on, tying her hair back up in a ponytail, before she sat back down beside him, reclaiming her spot. He let her snuggle back up against him. 

 

“After all of this, I haven’t even gone over your books,” she commented, not making a move to get up. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s all Fred’s fault.”   
  


“Damn  _ straight _ it’s Fred’s fault,” he declared. “Guess you’ll just have to come back.” 

 

“I’ll always come back for you,” she said. “I wonder if it worked.”   
  


“Don’t worry, babe,” he whispered. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll put a baby in you.” It was the truth, and he knew it was the right thing to say because Alice beamed a bright smile in his direction, before planting a kiss on his lips. “Can’t wait to hear that I was successful, though,” he said cockily, returning her kiss. “Uh, babe?”   
  


“What?” 

 

“Is that a...television news crew pulling into my construction company’s parking lot?”

 

Alice sat up and turned in the direction he was pointing in, rolling her eyes and sighing as she put her head on his shoulder. “Just ignore them, television news is beneath us.”

 

“I can’t just ignore them, what the hell are they doing here?”

 

“If I had to hazard a guess? I would say this is another thing of which fault belongs to Fred,” she drawled “I suppose you’re right,” she said, her tone filled with reluctance. “Despite my opinion on television newscasts, you should probably see what they want from you.” 

 

“You want me to go alone?” He offered. Alice rolled her eyes.

 

“Good heavens, no,” she told him. “As if I would recommend that you do such a thing. I don’t want that newscaster interviewing Sheriff Keller and Officer Greendale to get ideas that you’re  _ single and willing _ , or something hideously erroneous.”

 

“His last name is Greendale?”   
  


She arched a brow. “No, Jonesy. I have not a damn clue what his last name is.” She squeezed his hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

 

“I still don’t know what the hell he did,” he complained. 

  
  


***

 

The television in the master bedroom was on when Alice awoke from her nap, and she peered over in the general direction of it, surprised that FP had taken his leave and Forsythia was curled up beside her, eyes trained on the screen. “Where’d Daddy go?” She asked her quietly, and she stifled a yawn. “What are you watching?”

 

Unfortunately for Alice, she got her answer when she gave up squinting at the television and put on her glasses in order to see what had her second youngest so entranced. 

 

“Standing here with us at Jones-Andrews Construction is Alice Jones, owner and editor-in-chief of the Riverdale Register,” the reporter that had insisted on interviewing herself and FP said, and the camera panned to Alice, who (while watching at home on television) was thankful she didn’t look quite as sexed up as she’d felt. “She’s willing to give us a statement on the arrest of Frederick Andrews, which occured today at this location after a multi-city chase. Mrs. Jones?”   
  


“I would like to state that I find this medium to be a sophomoric experience,” television Alice said, as the televised version of FP put his arms around her middle. “Be that as it may, I stand by Sheriff Keller’s decision to bring forth these charges against Fred Andrews. Engaging in a multi-community car chase was reprehensible, and I hope that the people whose car he hit will be okay. His behavior is out of control.”

 

“What about you, Mr. Jones?” 

 

“I agree with Alice,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I think that Fred has a problem, and I hope that this will help him solve his problem.”

 

“You and Daddy are on the news,” Forsythia told her. “He went to get dinner for us,” she added. “I wanted to watch, Mama Allie.” 

 

She climbed on to Alice’s lap, pulling the comforter over herself, and Alice smiled down at the younger girl, wondering if she was hearing her correctly.    
  


“You’d like to call me that?” She asked, her tone curious. “Mama Allie?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Jellybean said. “Daddy said that I could ask you if that was okay.” 

 

“It’s fine, darling,” she assured her. “You can call me whatever you want.” She kissed her on the top of the head. “I love you, Jellybelly.”   
  


“Is Archie still staying for Thanksgiving?” She asked. “Daddy said yes.”

 

“Well, if Daddy said yes, I think it’s a yes,” she told her, propping herself up with the bed pillows. “How was school?”

 

“It was okay,” the little girl said. “Boring.”

 

“Did you want to come to work with me tomorrow?” Alice asked her. “I need to finish up the Thanksgiving edition of the paper, and if you want, I’d love some company.”

 

“Just me?” Forsythia asked. 

 

“Well, you, me, and the other employees,” she said breezily. “But, yes, you’d be the only one coming.”

 

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll go. What about Lottie?”

 

“Do you want her to come with us?” Alice asked, idly braiding the younger girl’s hair as she spoke. “If you want her to, that’s fine, but she doesn’t have to. I’m sure your dad will take her with him to work, or your sisters and brother can watch her.”

 

Alice shut off the television, not wanting to debase herself another moment further by watching the nightly newscast. She had better things to do with her time than watch tarted up newscasters butcher the drivel they considered to be news of any sort of importance. She sighed, debating if she really wanted to get out of the pajamas she’d crawled into after taking a much needed shower when they’d arrived home, before deciding against it. It was cold out, she was tired, and who the hell did she have to impress? She knew that FP didn’t care what she looked like. 

 

“Just the two of us,” Jellybean said, drawing Alice from her thoughts. “I promise, I’ll help you.”

 

“I know you will,” she said. “I’ll make sure to find you something fun to do, okay?”   
  


“Okay, Mama,” she replied, her voice muffled, as she had buried her face against Alice’s thermal shirt. “I wanna go.”

 

“You will, I promise,” she said. “Do you know what your father went to get for dinner?” 

 

“He let Archie pick,” was the answer. “I think he picked pizza.”

 

“Why don’t we go downstairs and see if he’s come back with it?” Alice suggested. “I’ll even carry you,” she offered. “Would you like that?”

 

“Please,” Jelly said, and she clambored off Alice’s lap and off of the bed, where she waited patiently for her to get out of bed herself and make an attempt at functioning. She sighed at the sight of the angry bruising on her face, which had lessened but not enough to make her feel comfortable wandering around in mixed company with it not covered, especially with mixed company being Archie Andrews, who had proved he was incapable of discretion earlier that day during breakfast. She shook her head, deciding that if she was going to go through the trouble of putting makeup on, she could also wear a bra (who knew if Polly had returned with that horrid boyfriend of hers?), even though it was unfortunate that having to function as a human being meant that Jellybean had to wait for her to remember how to be one. She decided against forcing the little girl into leaving the room while she slipped out of her top, realizing that if she had had no issues with having sex with FP in the bed of a truck with the  _ Sheriff _ and  _ cops _ literally feet away...she could deal with putting on a bra in front of a  _ seven  _ year old. Applying the makeup took mere seconds, and she scooped Jellybean up with ease, planting a motherly kiss on her cheek. “Love you.” Jellybean giggled.

 

“Love you, too, baby girl.” It was true. Whatever negative feelings Alice held for Gladys (and even though it was sinful to think ill of the dead, think ill of the dead she did in this situation), she certainly didn’t extend those feelings to either of the children that the woman shared with FP. “Thank you for coming up and spending time with me. I’m sorry that I was sleeping.”

 

“It’s cool,” Jelly said. “Daddy said you were tired.”

 

The scene that awaited Alice and Forsythia as they entered the living room was one that met Alice with annoyance, though she forced herself to remain reasonable and calm, lest she frighten the various children that had been collected in her home, which now included the Sheriff’s son, who was painting Charlotte’s nails, and her eldest child, who was thankfully Blossom free. FP still hadn’t returned with the pizzas, and she bit back a groan at the additional children that she would have to deal with. It was  _ nice _ of the children to have friends, she reminded herself, and she supposed that she would...come up for an explanation for why he had seemingly befriended Joaquin DeSantos, whom Alice  _ rarely _ saw darken her door. She shook her head, pursing her lips at the presence of Marmaduke Mason in her kitchen, peering into her refrigerator, as if it was one of the world’s seven wonders. 

 

“Does FP know you’re all here?” Alice asked, as she deposited Jellybean on the couch next to Lottie, and crossed the room to the coffee table, removing FP’s cigarettes from the potential of prying, preteen, hands. “I meant those who aren’t related to me, or you, Archibald.”

 

“My dad dropped me off,” Kevin said helpfully. “Betty asked me to come over, and I tutor Moose, so…” 

 

“Joaquin?” She asked, slipping the pack of smokes into her dressing gown ( _ not _ a bathrobe, thank you very much) pocket, waiting for his response. 

 

“Sorry, Mrs. Jones,” he said, tone apologetic. “Kevin’s dad thought I was on my way over to hang out with everyone. I don’t know why he was so concerned.”   
  


“Kevin’s father is our Sheriff, Joaquin. I believe being concerned for others is a great part of his job.” 

 

“When he’s not making up lies about my dad,” Archie mumbled. 

 

“Enough, Archie,” Alice said. “I am not dealing with your petulance tonight,” she informed him. “I very rarely agree with the Sheriff, but his actions in this case were correct. I don’t suppose that you’ve heard from your mother?” She tried very hard to keep her distaste out of her tone. 

 

“Was I supposed to hear from her?”   
  


“I--” Alice managed to bite back her sarcastic remark, and she elected to go supervise Marmaduke in the kitchen, where she sensed he could get into a great deal of trouble. “Marmaduke, what on earth are you doing?” She demanded. “FP is going to come back with dinner for everyone,” she stressed. “Including you. Why are you making a  _ sandwich  _ right now?”

 

“I’m a growing boy,” he supplied. “And, uh, you can call me Moose, now. Everyone else does.” 

 

Alice felt the start of a headache coming on. “Fine,” she said, through gritted teeth. “If you insist, I will call you...Moose. Do  _ not _ make a mess with that in my living room. For heaven’s sake, you need to use a plate.” In the interest of sparing herself  _ that _ line of questioning, she produced a plate from the cabinet they were stored in, along with a napkin. “Go join your friends,” she commanded. “I will...clean up in here.”

 

“I can do it!”

 

“No, Moose, you can’t,” she said, tone flat. “It’s...complicated. Just...go out with them please.”

 

“If you’re sure,” he said. 

 

“Yes, it’s fine,” she assured him. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

It wasn’t Marmaduke’s fault that the ten years she had spent married to Harold had rendered her into a thoroughly incompetent mess. No, the fault was hers, for being stupid enough to trust that they were using the proper precautions (honestly, it was like she had learned nothing from the fact that she had had a child in high school, with her decision to  _ trust _ Hal would handle using condoms properly) to prevent a pregnancy, and then it was her fault for being shamed into a marriage that she did not want and Harold did, mainly to prove that he was a responsible person to his equally damaging  _ parents _ and not out of any feelings of actual love. For her, or their daughter, or the daughter that came after. Oh, sure, Hal could and did talk a good game, parading her around as his  _ trophy wife _ of some sort to all of their Elm Street neighbors, making her co-owner of their paper, always there with an affectionate word and gesture when people were watching. When people  _ weren’t _ watching, of course, his true side came into the picture. Hal mainly preferred to abuse her with his words, because words didn’t leave physical marks, and what would people think if she had bruises all over her, that she was being battered? That was something that simply couldn’t happen. That wasn’t to say that the previous day’s incident had been an isolated one -- Alice was terrified of her first husband because she knew fully well what he was capable of doing to her when he got angry -- but, no, he had preferred tormenting her emotionally rather than physically. It was easy to -- no one could say that Alice hadn’t come into their marriage, or their relationship, broken -- and unfortunately, the effects still lingered. 

 

Which was why Alice was scrubbing the kitchen counter with the efforts one would use to cover up a crime scene. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she heard a female voice say, which she recognized as Polly’s, and she peered up at her, confusion surely written all over her face. “Mom, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

 

“What?” 

 

Polly stood in front of Alice, clad in her Vixens’ uniform, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t mean to upset everyone. I shouldn’t have said those things to Jughead. I was…”

 

“You should apologize to him, not me,” she muttered. “And you should be sorry, Margaret. Those things you said were out of line. Their  _ mother _ just died.” 

 

“I was jealous, okay? I’m jealous of how much they like you...and how much you like them.”

 

“That’s not an excuse,” she said, flatly. “I can understand being jealous, Polly, but you had no right to say those things, at all, and I don’t understand why you even did. These are your siblings, whether you want them to be or not, and this is how things have been for over five years now. If those children want to view me as their mother after all they’ve been through, I am not going to stop them, and you are going to respect them, and, for that matter, you are going to respect FP. I am tired of your blatant disrespect. I did not raise you to behave like this.”

 

Polly had the decency to appear abashed. “I know, Mom. I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to FP, too.”

 

“See to it that you do. He’s a good man, Polly. I really love him. And he really loves you girls.” 

 

“I know, Mom,” she whispered. “I know.” 

 

She pulled Polly into a hug. “It’s okay,” she said. “I know this is a lot.”

 

“I won’t bring Jason and Cheryl around anymore, if they make you feel uncomfortable,” her daughter said. 

 

“No, it’s fine,” she sighed. “I just...need to know beforehand, okay? Especially for Jason.”

 

“Okay, Mom,” Polly said.

 

“Mrs. Jones?” Kevin’s voice interrupted the moment between her and Polly, and she gazed over in his direction. “I hate to interrupt, but you should know that Archie’s mother is at your front door.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yes,” he said. “Archie’s mother and a whole  _ bunch _ of boxes.”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

 

“You need to come with me,” he told her. “I think you need to see this for yourself.”

  
  


***

  
  


“I really think this is what’s best for you,” Alice heard Mary say, as she took in the boxes on the front porch, the fact that Mary’s car appeared to be  _ equally _ packed with boxes, and the fact that she and Archibald were having some sort of spirited discussion on her front porch, in the cold. She could see that Archie was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and nothing actually conducive to the frigid temperatures, and that Betty was standing out there beside them, mercifully wearing a jacket. Alice thought she was going to scream. Kevin stood there on one side, and Polly stood on the other, wearing similar expressions of concern. “I don’t want you coming to Chicago with me,” she continued. “They’ll accuse me of  _ neglect _ if I let you stay at the house alone, especially since your father’s gone and gotten himself locked up.”

 

“This is ridiculous,” Alice muttered, grabbing the first coat she saw and slipping it on, before she shoved her feet into a pair of Elizabeth’s boots. “Was she just planning on leaving him here without a word?”

 

“I think so,” Kevin said. “I think that’s illegal.”   
  


“I don’t know what it is,” she said. “I can barely think straight, Kevin. It has been a very long week, and it continues to get longer by the second. I just can’t let that poor child stand out there by himself listening to that  _ woman _ speak to him like that.” 

 

“Here,” Kevin said. “Take my sweatshirt. I think Archie needs it more. It’s cold out.”

 

“I’ll come with you, Mom,” Polly said, and she opened the front door before Alice could refuse the offer.    
  


“You can’t do this to him,” Betty was saying. “This isn’t fair. He’s your son, Mrs. Andrews!”

 

“You don’t tell me what’s fair and what isn’t,” Mary replied. “I’ve already explained to the two of you why Archie needs to stay here, haven’t I?”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Alice heard a voice say, belatedly recognizing it as her own, but deciding in the scheme of terrible parenting being displayed, it was not on the list. “You’re a mother, Mary, you can’t just decide to  _ stop _ parenting because your children happen to ‘interfere’ with your plans. So, what were you planning on doing, before Fred got arrested? The two of you were going to ride off in the sunset off to Chicago, leaving me and FP to pick up the pieces with your child? He’s thirteen, Mary. This is not acceptable.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I was going to serve Fred with papers and send him back to Riverdale. I’m sure he and Archie could have figured it out.”   
  


“Come here, Archibald,” Alice commanded, handing the sweatshirt to Polly. “Polly has something warm for you to wear.” She scowled. “You’re really something, Mary,” she groused, shaking her head. “I mean, I knew that you were a cruel person, who really only cared about herself, but I never thought that you would be that way to your own child.”

 

“What am I supposed to do? Bring him with me to Chicago?”

 

“Yes, I suppose that would be what a decent parent would do,” she said, her tone exceedingly patient. “But, given the speed in which you did this? Well. I guess we can all see you saw this coming.” 

 

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Jones.” 

 

“You don’t have to apologize, Archie,” she said, her tone kind. “I don’t blame you for this. I think that you and Elizabeth should go back into the house, okay? Polly will make you both some hot cocoa? Warm you up? Elizabeth, where is your brother?”   
  


“He went with Dad to get dinner,” Betty supplied. “They left a few minutes before you came downstairs.”   
  


“Thank  _ fucking  _ God,” she muttered. The last thing she wanted to do was track down a traumatized by Mary Andrews Jughead Jones. “I mean, thank you, Elizabeth. I appreciate the information.”

 

“I’ll take them inside, Mom,” Polly said. She shot her an appreciative look. 

 

“The fact that you see nothing wrong with what you’re doing is disgraceful,” Alice said, her tone bitter. “I have half a mind to report you to the Sheriff for  _ parental neglect _ because by God, Mary, this is the worst thing you could have ever done. But, then, he might force Archibald to go with you to Chicago, and that will not be happening.”

 

“I’ll give you and FP guardianship consent,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, Alice, will it get you off my back?”

 

“You were just going to drop his things off without saying a word! If the kids hadn’t seen you FP and I would have been left to deal with the aftermath of your little stunt without any clue what the hell you were playing at. I may suck as a mother, Mary, but I would  _ never _ do that, not to any of my kids.”

 

“Alice? What’s going on here?”

 

Jughead and FP had arrived, and they were standing in front of the porch, each carrying about half of a pizza parlor. She bit back a sigh of relief.

 

“Take the food and Jughead inside,” she instructed. “The kids are hungry and I don’t want him to hear this. But, come back.”   
  


Mary brandished a piece of paper in her direction. “Here,” she said. “It’s notarized. You shouldn’t have any problems.”

 

“You’re not going to explain this to FP?” 

 

“Tell him whatever you want,” she told her. “Lord knows you will anyways.”


	11. broken rhymes in loco parentis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just can’t believe that this is real,” he admitted. “That Jug and Jelly are here for good, that we can really be a family with them, I mean, yeah, it sucks that Gladys died. But, at least now we have them. Permanently.” He shrugged. “It just sounds so natural coming from you. You really love them, don’t you?”

“Did she just drive away?” FP demanded, as he returned to the front porch to find his wife watching Mary Andrews’ car speed out of their driveway and down the street, thoroughly non-amused by what he had witnessed. “What the hell happened, Alice?”   
  
“Apparently, we are now Archie’s guardians,” Alice said, a scowl on her face, her brow furrowed. “She seems to think that because Fred has been arrested, you and I should be subjected to dealing with that boy, because...well, I don’t know why.”

 

“I don’t know what to say to that,” he said, figuring honesty was the best policy. “I just...she really didn’t care that she was leaving him here?”

 

“Apparently not. And what did you want me to do? Make her take him? I don’t want Archibald becoming an episode of Unsolved Mysteries, FP. He might be an imbecile, but he deserves better than being shoved aside in whatever the hell Fred and Mary have going on.”   
  
“You a good person, Allie,” he said, and he squeezed her shoulders. “I love that about you. You’re a much better person than I am on my own.” He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “I suppose we should go in,” he continued. “I saved us a pizza, but who knows what those children have done.”   
  
“They better not have eaten it,” she said, her tone sour. “I will be distinctly unamused if they did.” 

 

“I don’t blame you. You know that you’re up against a house full of growing boys, and people related to me by blood,” his tone was playful, and she shot him a grin. “You might want to claim your food before our children, or their friends, eat it all. Plus, gotta say? It’s much warmer inside. Even though the ambiance is a bit to be desired.”

 

“Pizza and cuddles with my man sounds like a good end to the day to me,” she told him. “Maybe, if we’re lucky, we can have some time to ourselves, later? I noticed that we have some whipped cream in the fridge when Marmaduke was examining its contents earlier.” Alice licked her lips, before meeting FP’s in a kiss. 

 

“What would you like to do with that whipped cream, Mrs. Jones?” 

 

“Oh, you know, Jonesy, just...have a little dessert? You, and me? Followed by some time in our jacuzzi?”

 

“That sounds nice,” he agreed, and he ran his hand down her side. “Just think,” he said. “Archie will be good practice for a little one. He’s just a bit less mature.” 

 

“Jonesy!” She chastised. “That’s not very nice. I’ll have you know that all of my girls were more mature than Archibald is at very young ages. Jughead was too.”   
  


“Can’t really blame the kid though, can we? I mean, look at his parents.”

 

“This is true,” she said, before sighing. “Come on, Jonesy,” she prodded. “I’m starving. Will you carry me in?”   
  


“Sure thing, babe,” he murmured, and he pressed a kiss to her lips as he scooped her up. “Never thought I would see the day you’d be wearing my clothes again,” he added, a smirk on his face. “I like this new side of you. To be honest, it really turns me the fuck on.” 

 

“Well, then,” she said, as she laid her head against his chest. “Perhaps I might make this a trend that continues. Who am I to say no to what turns my husband on?”   
  


“You turn me on by breathing, some days,” he admitted. “But, fuck, babe, there is nothing hotter. I think you might have to sit on my lap to hide my little problem.”   
  
“I could just take care of it,” she offered, her eyes wide, and her gaze knowing. “I mean, I’m not saying that we should fuck, or anything, not with the kids around and awake,” she allowed, and he watched her eyes darken with lust. “But, if you want to test my gag reflex, we certainly can arrange for that.”   
  


“And where would I test your skills, Mrs. Jones?” 

 

“Well, normally I would be against this,” Alice allowed. “But, we could always make sure that we have enough...baking supplies. In the pantry.”

 

“Right,” he agreed. “For your pies. For the holiday.”   
  


“Yes,” she said. “Who knows what calamities could have befallen my pie crusts?”

 

“Premade pie crusts?” He teased. “Alice Jones, I never thought I would see the day.” 

 

“Forsythia and Charlotte are going to be helping me bake this year,” she said. “I needed to make some sacrifices so the pies would be edible.” 

 

He nuzzled the top of her head. “It’s cool with me, babe. You know that I like whatever you make, whenever you make it. I should put you down, though,” he sighed. “Gotta put in an appearance with the kids, right? Look like we give a crap what they’re doing?”   
  


“Hide your ‘little problem’ from them?” She chimed in. “Which, from what I can see, is decidedly not very little. What has gotten into you, Jonesy?” She palmed at his crotch as he let her down, which did nothing to lessen the bulge in his jeans. He suspected Alice knew that. “Is the thought of going bareback enough to turn you into a teenager again?”   
  


“I hate condoms,” he agreed. “But, no. It’s you, Al,” he promised. “You know how much you turn me on.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” she said, happily. “Come on, hubbykins,” she cooed. “We’ll rescue my pizza from the horde of children, and I will give you your reward for being a very good boy.” 

 

“We don’t need to rescue it,” he murmured. “I put it in your office.” 

 

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, well, why didn’t you say something sooner? Maybe we will make our baby, after all.” FP bucked hips into Alice’s palm. She smirked at him. “God knows you want to.”

 

“Yeah, Al,” he murmured. “Damn straight I want to.”

 

“Come on, Jonesy,” she beckoned. “Help me with some late breaking news.”   
  
“I’d like to help you break that desk.”

 

“That could be arranged,” she purred, and he lifted her up, kissing her fiercely. She wrapped her legs around him, and he was amazed as she discarded her jacket by throwing it on the ground. If he had known that baby making would cause Alice to turn over a new leaf, he might have suggested it sooner. “Fuck me, Jonesy,” she whispered in his ear. “Let’s make a baby.”

 

He didn’t have to be told twice. A quick glance in the living room told him that everyone was eating and no one was dying (and that Betty and Jughead were competent enough to watch everyone else, including their older sister), and, with that knowledge, he was a man on a mission. He wanted to make a baby, Alice wanted to make a baby, damn straight they were going to make one. 

 

He locked the door to Alice’s home office behind them, not trusting any of the kids to respect an unlocked, yet closed, door. He reluctantly let her go, tearing off her shirt in the process, taking care not to actually destroy it. (Damn, though, he really wanted to.) She shucked off her pajama bottoms, and stood there clad only in a bra and panties, obviously waiting for him to follow her lead. “Fuck, Al, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, and he placed a trail of kisses down her neck, marking a path down from her clavicle to her navel. “The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.” His shirts joined the pile of her clothes, followed by his increasingly constrictive jeans, and soon they were both in an equal state of undress, as he unhooked her bra, carelessly tossing it on the floor. “You tell me what to do next,” he murmured. “I want to fuck you, but only if you feel up to it.”

 

Alice eyed him, her normally aquamarine eyes blackened with lust, and she ran her hands down his bare chest, tweaking his nipples. “I told you, I want you to fuck me,” she repeated. “It turns me on when you take control.”

 

“Thought you wanted to suck me off.”   
  


“Want a baby more,” she admitted. “Please, FP.”

 

“You don’t have to beg,” he said, his tone low, before trailing his lips down her body once more, paying special attention to her breasts. “I mean, I like it when you do,” he allowed. “But, we’re on the same page here, Allie. No matter what it takes.” He slipped off her underwear, as she tugged off his boxers, and he smirked at her as he noticed how turned on she already was. “You ready?” She nodded, drawing him in for another kiss, as she raked her nails down his body. “Yeah. Me too.” Alice smiled, her giggle music to his ears. 

 

“I think I figured that out,” she purred. “Come here, darling.” 

 

“Darling? Oh, you really want me,” he teased, taking her on the desk, which, mercifully, didn’t break during their ministrations. “We should go for round two,” he whispered, his tone hopeful. “I mean, do they  _ really _ need to be supervised, Al? They’re all old enough.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “I think we’re at round four for the day,” she pointed out, tracing her fingers on his chest. “And they are not all old enough,” she sighed. “Kevin Keller is here. We have to pretend to be competent.”

 

“Oh,  _ right _ ,” he drawled. “Because Kevin is going to corrupt the young ladies?”   
  


“Because his father is the Sheriff,” Alice corrected him. “Do you really want to have that conversation with him?” She kissed him softly. “Plus, you know, you do make me hungry. I want my pizza.”   
  


“Oh, so it’s  _ your _ pizza now?” He teased, and he reluctantly released her. “Thought we were going to share?”   
  


“We can,” she agreed. “After you get dressed.” She paused. “Actually,” she said. “I think you’d be more comfortable in pajamas. I’ll go get you some.”   
  


“Be most comfortable in nothing,” he admitted. “But, yeah. I’ll wait here.”   
  


“You better leave me some pizza,” she said, her tone sweet, but her eyes flashed. “I mean it, Jonesy.”

 

“Of course, babe,” he said, as he slipped on his boxers and his abandoned t-shirt. “Hurry back.”   
  


  
***

  
  


“I don’t think anyone even noticed we were gone,” Alice seethed. “Are we that replaceable? Are we the furniture?”   
  


“Babe, do you  _ want _ them to have known what we were doing?” He asked, and he pulled her close. “Wait, though, where are my cigarettes? I left them --”   
  


“I removed them from the living room,” she said dryly. “I didn’t want the corruption of youth to begin at home.” She sighed. “What a mess this will be.”

 

“It’s just until Fred gets out of jail!”

 

“Right,” Alice said. “Because I am going to subject Archibald to that situation. It was ever so fun to deal with when we were the children in it.”   
  


“You might have a point,” he said, and she leaned into him, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “What do you think, should we join them?”   
  


“It would be the polite thing to do,” Alice told him, running her hands through his hair. “Charlotte and Forsythia would probably appreciate our company.” She gazed up at him, making note of the besotted look on his face. “What has gotten into you?”

 

“Just can’t believe that this is real,” he admitted. “That Jug and Jelly are here for good, that we can really be a family with them, I mean, yeah, it sucks that Gladys died. But, at least now we have them. Permanently.” He shrugged. “It just sounds so natural coming from you. You really love them, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” she said. “Of course I do. They’re your children, which makes them ours.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. “You saved me, and my girls, when I needed you the most. When I thought I was alone. You created a family with me that included them, and I have always been so grateful to you for it. “So why wouldn’t I consider your children to be part of my family? They’re just as much my kids as Polly and Betty are yours.” She squeezed his biceps. “Come on, let’s go see what corruption the older children have done with my perfect angels.”   
  


She strode into the living room, and FP followed behind her, at a more leisurely pace. There was a movie playing on the television, one that she doubted very much was appropriate for the younger girls, but, in a moment of leniency, she let it slide. The state of her living room was vaguely traumatizing for her to take in, but, with her husband present, she could handle it. FP had pretty much exhausted her, anyways. 

 

“Mommy,” Charlotte squealed, noticing that her parents had arrived on the scene, and Alice sank down on the chair that the kindergartener had commandeered, pulling her onto her lap and tugging FP down beside her. The chair was big enough for the three of them, “Are you gonna watch the movie with us?”

 

“No love for Daddy, princess?” FP teased. 

 

“Love you too,” she promised, and she sprawled out across their laps. “Hi, Daddy.”

 

“Hey, doll,” he said. “Sorry we made you hang out with the big kids.”   
  


“Kevin painted my nails,” she supplied happily, showing them off. 

 

“That was nice of him,” Alice told her, smiling sweetly in Kevin’s direction. Not that he paid her any mind, as he seemed entranced by Joaquin. “Ooh, Jonesy,” she whispered. “Look.”

 

“Should we stop that?” He asked. 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chided. “Tom doesn’t even realize Kevin might be gay. Let the kids enjoy themselves.” She petted Charlotte’s hair. “Tired, Lottie?” The little girl shook her head. “Where’s Jelly?”

 

“With Betty and Juggie,” Charlotte supplied, her thumb in her mouth. Alice suspected she was more tired than she let on. “Cuddles time?”   
  


“Sure, sweetheart,” FP said. “Mommy and I would love to cuddle with you. Pretty sure your mom’s tired, even if you aren’t,” he said playfully, and Alice nudged him, shooting him a glare. “I’m just saying, you know, you have to get up early for me, and the kids.”   
  


“Good save, Jonesy,” she whispered. “What the hell are they even watching?” She said into his ear. 

 

“Christ if I know.” She felt him place his hand on her (still flat) stomach, the gesture subtle, but heartwarming nonetheless. “What the hell are you all watching?”

 

“FP! Watch what you say around Charlotte and Forsythia!” Alice chastised lightly. “What is the matter with you?”

 

“Lottie’s sleepin’,” he said softly, and she followed his gaze. It appeared that Charlotte had somehow managed to fall asleep, despite her claims of not being tired. “I’m sorry, though. I should do better.” He grinned dopily at her, and she felt her irritation wane. “You want me to take her up to bed?”   
  
“No, stay with me for a little,” she instructed. “Mommy still wants to cuddle with you.” 

 

“Do you, now?”

 

“Yes,” she said. “Plus, we need to properly supervise the children.” 

 

“Yeah, sure we do, babe,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “Seems to me that they’re all getting along.” 

 

“It is important to present a united front, especially when integrating new members into a family,” she said. “In this case, our new family member happens to be Archibald. We don’t want him thinking that we’re avoiding spending time with him.” 

 

“Feel bad for the kid,” he mumbled, and she felt him fumble in her dressing gown pocket, clearly in search of his cigarettes, before he pulled one out and lit it, the smell of it comforting her. Alice tried very hard not to smoke herself (her therapist said that it was alright to seek comfort in vices, but Alice still tried not to rely on them as a crutch), but cigarettes had been FP’s replacement for alcohol, and if smoking meant that he did not want to drink? Alice would take it. Plus, she had to admit that it was nice laying there in his arms, breathing in his special smell. “I know what that’s like.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

“Never wanted any of our kids to feel that way.” 

 

“They don’t, Jonesy. I promise, they don’t.” She reached out to pet Charlotte’s hair. “And I’m so sorry that things keep falling apart.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Just everything,” she sighed. “I feel like everything I touch turns to rot.” 

 

“That’s not true,” he promised, and she exhaled loudly. “Nothing that happened has been on you, you hear me? Not what happened with Polly, or Gladys, or Hal...none of it.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, and it tasted like smoke and the remnants of the pizza they’d eaten. “You’re the best thing in my world. You’re not a monster.”

 

“I love you, Jonesy.” 

 

“I know you do, baby, but I love you more.”


	12. the undiscovered country of collateral damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your father is not getting out of that jail for a very long time,” she said, her tone firm. “You are going to be staying here with us, also for a very long time. I refuse to allow you back into your parents’ care until they impress me with their consistent, positive, behavior. I am doubtful they will.”
> 
> Satisfied with her explanation, Alice returned to the dish of candy, and carefully chose another piece.
> 
> “I just don’t get it,” he said.

“The answer is no,” Alice heard herself say for what felt like the millionth time, as she sensed the presence of young, teenage, idiocy in her general vicinity. “Whatever it is that you wish to ask me, Archibald, the answer is no.” 

 

“Why can’t I see my father?” 

 

“Because, Archibald,” she said flatly. “He’s gotten himself in a lot of trouble, and continues to do so, and I can’t go into the prison with you because his  _ cellmate _ is Harold.” She pressed her lips together, and prayed into the void for the patience to deal with her newest houseguest, or, failing that, for him to develop sense. “And, do you really think that having FP bring you would be in any way wise?” She paused. “Because, it definitely wouldn’t be.” 

 

“Because he and my dad are fighting?”   
  


“No,” she said, and she intently focused on the coffee that she had set to brew, willing herself to force herself through the conversation she really did not want (and yet sensed she would need to have) with Archibald. “Listen to me,” she said, her tone flat. “I don’t want you asking FP to bring you to the jail, not because of anything your father has done, but because of what  _ Betty’s _ father has done. I understand that you and Elizabeth were young when Hal and I got a divorce, but surely such a simple fact as immaturity didn’t stop your oh so wonderful parents from telling you things that you shouldn’t have known about?”   


“Just that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself and left Mr. Cooper high and dry,” he dutifully reported. “They said that you couldn’t face the fact that you had been the reason that your marriage was failing, so you made up what happened to you so you could steal his money.” He shrugged. “I don’t believe that,” he added. Alice raised a brow. 

 

“I never made a damn thing up,” she muttered, and she clenched her hands into fists. “Heaven forbid that their opinions of Harold be sullied by his  _ little _ slip up. Do they think that I wanted my personal business known all over town? Do they think that I  _ like _ this? Don’t they think that I would have just left if I could???”   
  


“I don’t think that,” he insisted. “That’s what they told me, but I don’t believe it.”

 

“I love FP,” Alice said. “But the fact remains that Harold’s days on this earth would be numbered if FP entered that jail he’s housed him, and, as appealing as that sounds, I can’t risk my husband going to jail because he wanted to avenge me. I’m fine, and it’s not worth it. I am sorry that this means that you can’t see your father, Archibald. I really am.”

 

“It’s cool,” the red-headed boy said. “I get it. When is my mother coming home?”

 

“What?” 

 

“Well, I know that she left me here so she could go find herself in Chicago,” he explained, and Alice allowed her expression to remain neutral, rather than the expression of utter disbelief that wanted to grace her countenance. “I just don’t understand why that’s taking her so long. She and Dad were only supposed to be gone for Thanksgiving break,  and it’s December now.” 

 

“Archibald...Archie,” she said. “I think that we need to speak about this.” How Archie had missed the implications of that November night escaped Alice, but she didn’t have the energy to deal with him wondering out loud where his mother was. “Come, let’s sit in the living room. Do you want some hot cocoa?”

 

“Do you have any marshmallows?” He asked, as she put the electric kettle on. “The super ginormous ones?” 

 

“...yes,” she settled on. She wanted to inform him that ginormous was not a word, and would never become one, but settled for patting him on the shoulder. “Where are Elizabeth and Jughead?” She questioned. 

 

“They went over to Kevin’s,” he said, and shrugged. “Something about homework?”   
  


“I see,” she said. “You are aware that I thought I would be  _ alone _ after school today, right?” Alice had anticipated an afternoon to herself, having convinced Elizabeth that she needed some peace and quiet, slipping Margaret a fifty dollar bill, and charming FP into taking both of their youngests to work with him after the elementary school was released. It appeared, as always, that Alice had neglected to ensure that Archibald had  _ understood _ what she was implying. “But, I suppose, if you’re here, we may as well take this time to...deal with your confusion.”   
  


“I’m not confused!” He retorted. “That’s Kevin!”

 

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” she sighed. “Not that sort of confusion, you imbecile. Your confusion about your current  _ living _ situation, Archie.”

 

“I’m not that confused,” he said. “You’re watching me while Mom’s on vacation and Dad’s drying out.”   
  


“Not  _ entirely _ true,” she said, and she prepared the hot chocolate for the two of them, adding more marshmallows than she deemed particularly needed to his. “Come along, Archie. It appears that FP and I thought you understood more than you actually do.” 

 

Archie dutifully followed her out to the living room, and she eyed him expectantly until he placed a coaster under his mug, and sat on her couch with as minimal interruptions to her carefully ordered home as possible. She sat beside him, and she slipped out of the heels she’d worn to the office, not caring that she was sending him mixed messages about acceptable behavior in Alice Jones’s house. Her feet hurt and she was bloated beyond all belief. She was tempted to abandon him to change into something more comfortable, but, for the sake of her furniture, elected to persevere. 

 

“Are you okay?” Archie asked.

 

“I’m fine,” she told him, and she took one of the Hershey’s kisses she’d set on the table, popping it in her mouth. “I’m the adult here, Archibald, you are not. It is my job to worry about you.”

 

“Betty worries about you all the time,” he said. 

 

“I know that Elizabeth does,” she sighed. “You do not need to. There is nothing wrong with me.” Archie stared at her. She sighed again. “Okay, fine, there are things that are wrong with me,” she allowed. “But, I promise, you do not need to worry about them. I take great care to ensure that things are under control.”

 

“You’re eating chocolate,” he said.

 

“So?” Alice took a regal sip of her drink. “I’m entitled.”

 

“I thought those were for decoration.” Archie complained, and she crossed her arms, already feeling her patience fraying. “You told Moose that he wasn’t allowed to eat them the other day!”   
  


“Because if I let Marmaduke eat my carefully arranged candy displays, I would be eaten out of house and home, Archie,” she said, after a moment of collecting her thoughts and reminding herself that just because the boy was utterly infuriating didn’t mean that she constantly had to let her utter disappointment and non-amusement show up. It wasn’t Archibald’s fault that his father was sitting in a jail cell awaiting trial (and decidedly  _ not _ in there to simply ‘dry out’), and it wasn’t his fault that (in her latest of decisions that sent Alice’s patience and respect for her to startling lows) his idiot of a mother had decided that in her absence, it was certainly acceptable for Alice and FP to take time out of their lives to parent her child. “You may have some,” she added, taking a handful of the candies, and presenting them to him. “I don’t mind sharing with you.” 

 

Even if Alice did mind sharing with Andrews’ boy, it was not going to be her candy that she drew the line on. 

 

“Your mother is not coming home,” she said. “I think she has mislead you. She was planning on serving your father with divorce papers in Chicago, and sending the two of you back to Riverdale, while she stayed. I believe that your father’s little...dalliance with the wrong side of the law eliminated that plan as a possibility.” 

 

“Well, the Sheriff has to let Dad out then,” he said. “I mean, what other choice does he have?”

 

“Your father is not getting out of that jail for a very long time,” she said, her tone firm. “You are going to be staying here with us, also for a very long time. I refuse to allow you back into your parents’ care until they impress me with their consistent, positive, behavior. I am doubtful they will.” 

 

Satisfied with her explanation, Alice returned to the dish of candy, and carefully chose another piece. 

 

“I just don’t get it,” he said. 

 

“Don’t get what?” 

 

“I mean, why does it matter to you whether I live there alone or not? I’m old enough to stay alone. I can cook.” 

 

“You are thirteen years old, Archibald, you are not living alone.” It was inconvenient, having to put up with him on a permanent basis, yes, but Alice was not about to let her feelings on the subject influence how it was dealt with. “Are we really so bad to live with?”

 

“No,” he said. “I just...Dad said that I’m picking you over me. He wrote me a letter. It’s why I wanted to visit him.”

 

“Give me that letter,” she seethed. “This is unacceptable.” If Alice Jones had to go to that hideous prison herself, and potentially deal with Harold, in order to ensure that Archibald wasn’t being castigated via the US postal service, she was most assuredly going to do so. “Go,” she commanded. “I have little patience for your father, and it slips away by the second.” 

 

“Okay,” he said, and she watched him scramble off the couch, which she promptly claimed as her own. 

 

It had already been a long day for Alice, and she sensed it had the potential to be even longer. Couldn’t Fred not torment his child for something the thirteen year old hadn’t even asked for? There were many things of Archibald’s own doing that he  _ could _ torment him for, and Alice might not even stand in his way, but she was not allowing Fred to blame him for something that had been Mary’s decision. And the State of New York’s. 

 

Work had been taxing in itself. It was...aggravating dealing with undoing the messes that Harold had done during his tenure at the Register, even after his demotion that had been handed to him after their divorce. Not that Alice regretted firing him -- far from it -- but the questions the newer employees were fielding her were about to send her through the roof. It appeared that there was a divide in the ranks -- those who had been involved in the paper prior to her bitter divorce knew full well what the history was between herself and the Cooper family, and they knew what a scandal it had been for the Cooper family when the Register had fallen into the hands of a Southsider (Hal’s parents had never liked her, even when they were married) -- while the newer employees just thought that there were personality clashes between Mrs. Jones and Mr. Cooper and seemed to be beyond confused about  _ why _ she’d been punched in the face in front of the office by him. She had surmised that the most vocal had thought that she had always been married to FP, and that they had just had a particularly large brood of children, but the truth coming out had led to her being a blatantly obvious topic of discussion. It was Riverdale, so Alice knew that there was nothing interesting of note going on in the town, but being the center of attention still gave her a headache.

 

The headache found itself in competition with the feeling of nausea that she had been experiencing over the last few days, and she had planned to take the few hours that she’d been expecting to have in peace to take the test that she’d gotten on her lunch break and relax in a warm bath, no matter what the result was. Having Archie home was an inconvenience. Still. She couldn’t have the child suffering in silence about what his idiot parents had decided to do.

 

She could take the test, at least. 

 

Not that Alice really thought she even needed to take the test, if she was honest with herself. 

 

She had been pregnant before. Four times, to be exact. She knew what she was feeling, and why she was feeling it. But, still. There was something to be said for taking a test and being able to show FP that it was positive that she really liked. It appealed to her baser instincts. Plus, it was FP. 

 

The thought of being able to show FP a positive pregnancy test and celebrate with him made her decision clear, and she got off the couch and headed over to where she had deposited her handbag when she’d gotten home, taking the test out of her bag. Archibald could wait. It would do the boy some good to learn some patience.

 

And? If she happened to be in a very good mood as a result of the digital readout? The reason why was her little secret. Well -- their little secret. Alice had texted FP a picture of the positive result the second she had processed what it said. His response had made her even happier. Well, responses. She wasn’t certain that he’d even put down his phone since she’d given him the news.

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Alice asked Archibald in confusion, as the redheaded boy gaped at her. “What’s the matter?” The pregnancy test had been carefully hidden (Alice had made sure of it, when she had allowed practically to win out over propriety, and gone up to her room to get changed), so it wasn’t like Archibald had known. “Give me that letter.” 

 

“You look happy,” he supplied. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes,” she said. “I’m fine.” She raised a brow. “The letter.” 

 

The letter finally procured, Alice scanned it with her keen, reporter, eyes, the good mood that FP had managed to induce somewhat tempered by her old friend: irritation at Fred Andrews. How dare he say those things to his son? The things that Fred had written were absolutely unacceptable. He could be mad at herself and FP all he wanted, she thought to herself. She just didn’t see why he thought it was appropriate to take things out on his child. 

 

“You didn’t reply to this, did you?” 

 

Archie shook his head. “Haven’t replied to any of them,” he muttered. 

 

“This is not appropriate for him to say to you,” she said. “...what do you mean, ‘any of them’?” She arched a brow. “How many of these has he sent?” She scowled at the piece of paper, as Archibald’s gaze met her floor. It wasn’t like Alice didn’t find the floor to be a decent thing to examine, but the fact that her former neighbor’s missives were reasons for Archibald to feel ashamed did not sit well with Alice. “Look at me,” she commanded. “What your father is saying to you, that is nothing for you to be ashamed of. He is the one that should be ashamed, not you.” 

 

“Like...ten?” Archie said, his tone sullen. 

 

“I need to see them,” she said flatly. “Now, Archibald.” 

 

“Why? It won’t change anything.” 

 

“You might not think so,” she said. “But, you’re new around here. So, I’ll forgive you. Bring the letters to me, and we will be dealing with this. This is unacceptable.” 

 

Maybe it was some form of maternal instincts, which Alice had in abundance for her and FP’s children, but had never experienced for Archibald in any capacity, maybe it was her pregnancy related hormones rearing their ugly heads and deciding that nurturing the teenage boy would be how she nested, or maybe, just maybe, Alice was still displeased with how her former neighbors had handled  _ anything  _ they had ever done ever, and was willing to show her displeasure in any way possible. Whatever the reason was, Alice didn’t know. Still, when Archie returned with a sheaf of paper, looking like the gangly, human, equal, to a lost puppy, she found herself pushing her feelings of general irritation at him aside, and she found herself pulling him into a motherly hug. 

 

“It’s going to be okay,” she promised him. “Everything will be okay.” 

 

“How are we going to be dealing with this?” Archie asked, his tone wary. “I don’t think my dad cares about what the Register has to say about him.”

 

“Well,” she huffed. “It’s a good thing we’re not going to the Register, isn’t it?”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“You’ll see.” 

  
  


***

  
  


“I don’t  _ want _ to go to the Sheriff about it,” Archie whined, and Alice glared at him. “I just don’t think it’s a big deal, he’s just my dad.”

 

“Listen to me,” she said, through gritted teeth. “I don’t care what you want, young man. I am the adult here, and you are the child, and given that I am not entirely certain your father is allowed to contact you at this moment, we have  _ got _ to speak to the Sheriff. Do you think that Tom Keller will be falling over with joy at the sight of me? I am quite dubious.” 

 

Archie scowled, and she watched him as he slouched forward and jammed his hands in his coat pockets. “For Heaven’s sake,” she hissed. “Stand up straight. I won’t have my press credentials revoked because you wanted to have a temper tantrum.” 

 

“Can’t you just call my dad and tell him to fuck off?” 

 

“Do  _ not _ tempt me,” Alice informed him. “Trust me, you would much prefer my handling things the legal way.” 

 

Alice strode past the reception desk, having long memorized the path to the Sheriff’s office by heart. Archibald followed behind her, at a much slower pace than she’d anticipated, and she decided to reluctantly allow this act of technical disobedience. 

 

The door to the Sheriff’s office was closed, and she frowned. Typically speaking, Alice followed her firmly held belief that knocking on doors was for people that were beneath her stature as Queen of the Serpents. However, there was the presence of Archibald to consider. Not that Alice much cared about instilling good manners in her young charge, but, rather, she did not want to encourage Archibald thinking that wandering into rooms with closed doors was acceptable -- what if he decided that was a privilege allowed to him, and walked in on her and FP in an  _ intimate _ moment? That simply would not do. 

 

She ghosted one hand over her abdomen, before knocking sharply with the other. 

 

When the door opened, it was the cop from Greendale who stood on the other side, and Alice made a pointed effort to glance past him, spotting Tom Keller at his desk,  _ spinning _ a Rubix cube. 

 

“Move,” she commanded, and she brushed past the police officer to enter the office, her perfectly painted lips pursed in absolute displeasure. “What in God’s name are you doing, Keller?” 

 

“Alice Jones,” he said, and she smirked as he dropped the plaything like it was a hot potato. “I didn’t--you  _ knocked _ on the door--”

 

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t get used to that,” she allowed. “We have a problem.” 

 

“Aren’t you going to say hello to me? Remember? We met be--” 

 

“Let me stop you right there,” Alice drawled. “I have tried very hard to forget that we had the misfortune of encountering one another,” she said, and she followed her statement with a sigh. “You seem to have confused me with someone who desires needless interaction with others.”

 

“Alice!” Tom exclaimed. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she purred. (Alice was decidedly not sorry.). “Was that rude of me?” 

 

“You did interrupt--”

 

“Here’s how things work here, Officer Greendale,” she said, her tone smooth, and her eyes filled with a false desire to help. “Riverdale is a town that is in a tenuous peace with itself. The Northside and the Southside are not at war with one another, and crime is at all time, historical, lows. And, why is that, you ask?”

 

“My last name--”

 

Alice continued to speak as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “Because of the Serpent King and Queen,” she said. She smiled serenely at him. “Now, perhaps you haven't a clue what to do in the presence of royalty, but...demanding things of me? Does not make me a happy Queen.” She bared her teeth in a feral grin, before she beckoned Archibald into the room. “Don’t be frightened, Archie, I’m not going to bite. I have people for that.”   
  


“Alice!” Keller bellowed, and she rolled her eyes. “You can’t just come in here on a whim, and expect to be accommodated--”

 

“I can, and I will,” she said. “While you and this imbecile are trying to solve Rubix cubes, I am trying to pick up the pieces of this poor child’s shattered life. Speaking of which: Archibald, this is one of the gentlemen that arrested your father. I am sure that this wonderful member of the Greendale police force would be quite interested in your father’s theories on why he is incarcerated.” 

 

“What does--”

 

“Why he is in prison,” she clarified. “Sheriff, I am coming to you as this young man’s guardian, to report what I consider to be concerning behavior.” Alice crossed the room to the Sheriff’s desk, and slammed down the copies of Fred’s letters to Archibald, with decidedly more force than needed. “Please illuminate me as to where we go from here, because -- considering what he  _ did _ to end up in Shankshaw -- I do not think that he should be allowed to communicated with Archibald at all, let alone in this manner. How in the name of all that’s good are these letters allowed to go out? He is a minor.”

 

“I still don’t think it’s a big deal--”

 

“Archibald,” Alice said. “Because you embarrass me by not reading the Register, I have been able to shroud your father’s arrest in a layer of mystery and intrigue, but, surely even you know they don’t send people that have physically assaulted their ex-wives and people that are ‘drying out’ to the same, high security, facility? Your father did a  _ horrible _ thing, and I don’t know if he will  _ ever _ see the light of day again. I have half a mind to go down there myself and--” Alice paused her rant, having heard her name mentioned over and over. “Oh, Tom, I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

 

“I was saying that I will handle this,” Tom said. “You don’t need to worry.”

 

“And if you don’t handle it?” Alice asked. “What shall we do then?”   
  


“He’s the Sheriff--”   
  
“Was I speaking to you?” She demanded. “I did not think so.”

 

“I  _ will _ handle this, Alice.”

 

“See to it that you do,” she settled on. She didn’t trust the veracity of the Sheriff’s statement, but too much time with that moron from Greendale and the Sheriff was too much for her fragile hold on sanity to bear. “If you don’t...well. I think you know what will happen.” She smiled serenely at him. “Come along, Archibald,” she said. “I think perhaps we will collect the others and have dinner at Pops.”

 

“Are you sure?” Archie asked. She nodded. “Sweet, Mrs. J.” 

  
  



	13. unintended consequences (and true believers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drive to the diner was filled with comfortable silence. The radio was on low (FP was fairly certain that it was tuned to Christmas music, because he knew his wife and he knew how important being a family and doing the stuff that they had maybe seen on television or maybe experienced on rare occasions at Fred’s house, back when they’d all been friends and Fred’s father had been alive, like family dinners and having a traditional Christmas), and Alice had drifted off, her head pillowed on to his shoulder. Their girls had taken note of their sleeping mother, and had decided to chat quietly, so as not to disturb her. He’d have to thank them later.

“Alice?” FP asked, as the door to the construction company’s trailer opened, and closed, revealing his wife standing in the entrance. “I thought that you were going to be home, relaxing?” That  _ had _ been why he’d taken the girls to work with him, hadn’t it been? Jellybean and Lottie had tired themselves out and were asleep on the couch that he’d put in the office when Alice was pregnant with Charlotte, so, while Alice’s arrival was unexpected, he wasn’t exactly going to be sending her home. “You alright?”

 

“I’m fine,” she told him, and she crossed the room to his desk, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and a matching smirk on her lips. “I just wanted to stop in, and  _ follow up _ on our conversation.” She leaned over the desk, and he kissed her softly, the mention of their conversation successfully distracting from the paperwork he had been about to finish. Alice was pregnant. They were going to have another baby. FP was the happiest he had ever been. “But, if I’m interrupting you,” she allowed. “I can just...wait in the car with the kids.”

 

“You’re definitely not interrupting me,” he said, as he stood up, and wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her her head. “How are you feeling?” 

 

“Okay,” Alice whispered, her arms wrapping around him, and he enjoyed the feel of their bodies pressed together, their little miracle cocooned inside of her. “A little nauseated,” she added. “But, it’s okay, it’s normal.” She smiled up at him. “Excited. Happy. Exhausted.” 

 

“You think the baby’s okay?” He questioned. “You didn’t go to a doctor…?”

 

“Oh, no,” she said. “No, I spent the afternoon dealing with some...Archibald related issues,” she explained. “The baby’s fine,” she told him. “Don’t worry about us.” She kissed him again. “You happy, Jonesy?”

 

“The happiest,” he whispered, and he reluctantly released her, and focused his attention on her midsection. Alice was wearing a coat (of course Alice was wearing a coat, he thought to himself, it was winter, and it was cold, and Alice was always prepared for these things, now that the two of them could afford things like winter jackets, and heat), and he was doubtful that there was anything yet to see that signified that a baby was imminent, but, nonetheless, he dropped to his knees, and planted a kiss against the material of her jacket. “Hey, baby,” he whispered. “Daddy’s got you.” He felt Alice run her fingers through his hair, and he pressed his ear against her middle, knowing full well how ridiculous they would look if the kids saw them. “...the kids are in the car?”

 

“I thought we would go out to dinner,” she explained. “I don’t really feel much like cooking, and Lord knows that Archibald needs something to cheer him up after the evening he’s had, and I thought it would be a nice way to...celebrate a bit. I mean, I want to wait a bit before actually telling them, but, I mean, you and I would know…”

 

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” he said. “I’d love to celebrate.” He kissed at her abdomen again, and she giggled softly. “What, Allie?”

 

“You,” she told him. “You’re adorable, Jonesy.” 

 

“It’s our baby,” he told her. “I’m happy.” 

 

“Yeah, I know,” she whispered softly. “I’m happy, too. Tonight, maybe, we can celebrate more...intimately?”

 

“You know I’m down, if you feel up to it,” he assured her. “Come on,” he said, and he placed a hand on the small of her back. “Let’s wake up the kiddos and go out, yeah? I’m pretty much set for the night.” He tipped her chin up so he could kiss her again. “I’m glad you stopped by,” he admitted. “That text you sent me, babe? That made me the happiest man alive. I love you.” 

 

“I love you, too,” she said. “Why  _ are  _ our children asleep? Were you having them do manual labor?”

 

“I can’t help it, babe,” he smirked. “They’re all Jones when it comes to the construction site.” 

 

Alice grinned at him, and her eyes twinkled. “That’s not true,” she protested. “Jellybean liked it when she went to the Register with me. We had fun.” She laced her fingers through his and tugged him in the direction of the couch. He dutifully followed her, and he supported her back as she crouched down to press a kiss on each of their girls’ cheeks, not wanting her to hurt herself. “Time to get up, girls,” she instructed. “Daddy’s hungry.”

 

“Mama?” FP heard Jellybean ask, and he smiled at her use of the word. “What’s for dinner?” 

 

“We’re going to get dinner at Pop’s,” she told her. “Do you and your sister feel up to that, do you think?” 

 

“Yes, Mommy,” Charlotte chimed in. “I wanna milkshake.”   
  


“Come on,” he told them. “Want me to carry you both out to the car?” They both nodded. “Get  your coats on, then,” he instructed. “I can leave the truck here,” he suggested to Alice. “I could drive us all?”   
  


“Yeah, that would be nice,” she agreed. “I’ll just bring you to work tomorrow, maybe?”

 

“Sounds like a plan, babe.” He scooped up Jellybean and Lottie, one child per arm, and he allowed Alice to lead the way out of the office and down the stairs to the car, after he made sure he had his wallet and locked the door behind him. The air was brisk, and it looked like it would possibly snow. He didn’t want Alice driving in bad weather, regardless of the current state she was in. Pregnant or not pregnant, FP was a gentleman, and he wouldn’t do that to his wife. 

 

After he settled the kids in their seats, and made sure that Alice was comfortable, FP got in the driver’s seat, and eyed the occupants of the car, satisfied that they were all, if not getting along, tolerating each other. Jughead and Archie had commandeered the rear seat, and Betty and Polly were sat in the seat behind the younger two. Well, the middle two, now, he supposed. He glanced at Alice again, and squeezed her hand. “Ready to go?” 

 

“Yeah,” she said, her fingers linked with his, the metal of the wedding set he’d worked his ass off to give her cool against his skin. “Yeah, I’m ready.” 

 

The drive to the diner was filled with comfortable silence. The radio was on low (FP was fairly certain that it was tuned to Christmas music, because he knew his wife and he knew how important being a family and doing the stuff that they had  _ maybe _ seen on television or maybe experienced on rare occasions at Fred’s house, back when they’d all been friends and Fred’s father had been alive, like family dinners and having a traditional Christmas), and Alice had drifted off, her head pillowed on to his shoulder. Their girls had taken note of their sleeping mother, and had decided to chat quietly, so as not to disturb her. He’d have to thank them later. 

 

When Polly and Betty had agreed to get everyone inside of the restaurant to let them have a moment alone, he had readily agreed. He wanted his queen to get as much rest as possible, that was true. She was pregnant, after all, and she deserved to nap if that was what she and their baby needed. But, she was  _ pregnant _ and FP really wanted to get a glimpse of their child on the way, even if he  _ knew _ that there was no chance she was showing yet. 

 

Alice stirred. “Where are we?” She asked, her voice filled with sleep. 

 

“At Pop’s,” he said. “Kids are already inside,” he assured. “Thought you needed to sleep a bit more.” 

 

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “What’re you looking at?”

 

“You,” he told her. “You’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” A light blush colored her cheeks, and she slowly nodded. “Trust me, babe, you are.” He licked his lips. “Can I see the baby?” 

 

“There’s not much to see,” she told him, as she unzipped her jacket, and he nodded, acknowledging her words. “But, yes, you may.” The opened jacket revealed that Alice was wearing yoga pants and a sweater, and she lifted the hem of the sweater to reveal the expanse of creamy skin, that was still, for the most part, flat. “Hey, baby,” he whispered, his tone awed. “What are you up to in there?” He pressed his hand to her belly. “It’s me, your daddy.”

 

“Daddy loves you very much,” Alice chimed in. “I love you, too. We can’t wait to meet you.” 

 

He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her navel. “Be a good baby,” he directed. “I’ll talk to you more later, but right now, we gotta go in and eat.” 

 

“You’re cute,” she told him, as she pulled down her sweater and fixed her jacket. “Come on, babe. I’m hungry.” 

 

“I’m hungry, too,” he admitted. “Of course, I’m always hungry.”  FP got out of the car and walked around to Alice’s side of the vehicle, insisting on being a gentleman and helping her out, keeping a protective arm wrapped around her waist. His fingers curled around her side, and she leaned into him. “What’s up, pretty mama?”

 

“Nothing,” she said, and he felt her snuggle closer. “Just thinking about how cute you are.” 

 

“I’m fucking adorable.” He kissed her temple. “I mean...I’m a badass. I’m King of the Serpents.” 

 

“You’re cute,” she insisted. “Everyone knows they need to fear me, anyways.”   
  


“Course, babe,” he said. He kissed her on the lips. “You’re my Queen.” 

 

They entered the diner, curled up into each other like they didn’t have a care in the world, and Pop himself offered them a genial smile. He waved in acknowledgement at the older man, while Alice had clearly spotted the kids, piled into one of the larger booths, and he allowed her to tug him in their direction. 

 

FP had never really pictured himself as a father. He had known that Alice had been pregnant when they were in high school, but he had never been certain if the baby was his or Cooper’s, and, when she had come back to school after her ‘semester away’, the baby had never been mentioned again. He had been pissed off at Alice for ditching him for Hal Cooper, and, well, Alice had been pissed off in general. There had been no reasoning with her. So, he had joined the Army, and vowed to never look back. He’d wanted to leave the Southside at all costs, hadn’t he? If Alice wanted to flounce off to  _ New York City _ and go to a fancy  _ Ivy League _ school on the sob story of their lives -- and on Hal Cooper’s arm -- well, the hell with her. 

 

The Army hadn’t panned out -- he’d been discharged honorably, sure, but what the hell good did that do him when he’d had  _ no _ other prospects -- and, when he’d slunk home to Riverdale, tail between his legs, there was Alice  _ fucking _ Cooper on a goddamned giant ass billboard in the center of town, her smiling face plastered next to Hal  _ fucking _ Cooper’s, the Riverdale Register’s logo and ‘under new ownership’ glaring down at him. Sure, he had heard that Alice and Hal were still together, but, he had thought there was a chance. FP really didn’t care much for Cooper, and would have gladly broken up the other man’s marriage then and there. 

 

Except. 

 

Well, he had run into Alice -- who had been all friendly, and all smiles, and full of praise for his military service (the fact that Alice was fucking  _ proud _ of him was a turnup for the books) -- and she had told him that she was pregnant. Which explained the ring on her finger. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy her marriage just because he thought he deserved a chance. The baby that was on the way deserved to have a nuclear family, like they’d never had. 

 

And if he and Alice had fucked around with each other? Cooper was a dick that made Alice miserable, and he had been fucking lonely. 

 

Gladys had been a mistake. She’d insisted that she’d been on the pill -- what the fresh hell did FP know about safe sex, okay? He’d pretty much blatantly been a teen dad, since it was obvious by the way Cooper looked at him and looked at Alice like they were scum that the douchebag had figured it out. Alice insisted that he use a condom every time they slept together, and he’d dutifully gone along, knowing the consequences were too great if he didn’t. But one minute Gladys was some Serpent chick that he was fucking at the bar when Alice was too hung up on Cooper to bother to see him, and the next, she was up the damn duff. 

 

So, he’d married her. Whatever. Alice was pregnant with another one of Cooper’s spawn, and, well, Gladys’s parents wanted her to keep the kid. He figured maybe their kids could be friends. Sure, Cooper hated him, and Gladys hated Alice, but, the hell with them. Gladys thought that Alice was some stuck up Northsider bitch that kept FP in her pocket for quotes for articles that derided the Southside. He knew why Cooper hated him. But, Betty and Jughead had become fast friends, with Freddie Andrews’ son tagging along after them. Sure, it was hard, with Jug not being able to hear fully, but, they were definitely friends. 

 

Jellybean had been  _ another _ accident, well, at least that was what Gladys had claimed, but he was sure that the mysteriously missed period was partly inspired by the fact that it had been  _ so blatantly obvious _ that he would have done  _ anything _ to get the hell away from her. FP hadn’t been able to do that with Jughead  _ and _ a little baby involved. 

 

He and Alice had gotten a little sloppy, mainly after she started coming into the Wyrm, makeup pancaked over barely healed bruising. Enter Charlotte. 

 

So, it was safe to say that a planned child was a novelty to the both of them. It was nice, actually. 

 

“Did you guys order already?” Alice asked them. “Or were you all waiting for us?”

 

“Lottie wanted to wait for you,” Polly said. “That’s alright, right?” 

 

“Yeah,” she replied. “Do you think it would make more sense to sit in two booths? The older kids in one and us and the girls in the other? We’d have more room, yeah?”   
  


“Makes sense to me,” he shrugged. He was happy to oblige Alice when she wanted things in the realm of sense. “If we do that,” he warned, leveling a glare at the teenagers. “You all  _ better _ behave. Do I make myself clear?”   
  


“Yeah, FP,” Polly said, her tone sincere. “I’ll watch them, I promise.” 

 

“Thanks, kiddo.” He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “You two want to sit with us?” Charlotte had already scrambled out of the booth and wrapped her arms around him, while Jellybean seemed to actually think she had a choice in the matter. “Come on, Jelly,” he coaxed. “Mama’s missed you.”

 

Alice had already sat down at the empty booth behind the kids. Jellybean perked at the thought that her step...well, essentially  _ her mother _ had missed her. The little girl had seemed to completely adapt to Alice’s new role as her mother figure, and had gone one step further to considering her to be her mother, it appeared. Which was fine with him. He didn’t mind as long as neither of his girls did. 

 

Jellybean scampered out of the booth she had been sandwiched into and made a beeline for Alice, and he watched as she tucked herself carefully into Alice’s side. He’d wanted to sit beside his woman, but he decided that he wouldn’t fight Jellybean on her desire to cuddle with her. It was cute, anyways. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the two, before he slid into the booth across from them. Lottie sat beside him. 

 

“This is nice, babe,” he told her. “Could get used to this.”

 

“Remember when I was pregnant with Lottie? You took us here all the time. Whenever I asked.”

 

“Yeah, babe, I remember.” 

 

“Think we could start that up again?” She gazed at him, her eyes innocent, and he nodded. “I just think it would be fun.” 

 

“Me too,” he agreed. “I really, really, do.” 

 

She smiled at him. “You have a good day, babe?” 

 

“The best day I’ve had in a long time.”

  
  


***

  
  


“Come join me in the bath, Jonesy?” Alice requested, once she was certain the children were settled in for the evening. It had been a long day indeed, and, honestly, Alice felt that she and her husband were due for a little rest and relaxation. “Thought maybe we could soak in the tub, and then...enjoy ourselves a bit in the shower?” She crossed the room to him and gave him a kiss. 

 

“That sounds awesome, babe,” he said, and she tugged off her pullover sweater, followed by her yoga pants, not missing the hungry look in his eyes as she stood there in her lingerie. It was a particularly nice set, if she said so herself. Silk. She thought it matched her eyes. “You look awesome.” She watched as he licked his lips. 

 

“I feel bloated,” she admitted. “And my breasts are sore.” She unhooked the bra, allowing it to join the pile of her discarded clothes, and she breathed a sigh of relief, before she climbed up on the bed to stretch out beside FP. 

 

“Want a massage?” He offered. “Maybe that will make you feel better?”

 

“That would be nice,” she agreed, after a moment of contemplation. “You’re really happy?”   
  


“Yeah, Allie, I’m really happy.” He began to rub her shoulders, and she snuggled down into the pillow she was hugging. His touch combined with the massage oils that she loved made her practically melt like goo. “It’s weird, you know, planning to have a baby. It’s like a foreign concept to me.” 

 

“Me, too,” she whispered. “I’m going to call and make an appointment tomorrow,” she added. “So we can see what the little one is up to in there? You’ll come, right?” His hands dipped lower on her body, somehow managing to lessen her aching muscles. “That feels good, Jonesy.” 

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he told her. “I told you that, if we ever did this again, I would be there for every appointment, Allie, and I meant that. You and the baby, the kids, even Archie, you are the most important things in the world to me.” She smiled, and he leaned over to kiss the nape of her neck. “You know that you’re important to me, right?”

 

“I know,” she assured him. “I’ve always known.” 

 

“Good,” he said. “So long as you know.” His hands moved down her body, and she let out a moan of pleasure. “Like that, babe?”

 

“Yes, I like that,” she breathed. “You know what you’re doing.”

 

He chuckled. “I try, at least.” 

 

“You were so cute earlier,” she whispered. “When you were interacting with the little one.”

 

“I’m excited,” he told her. “Can’t help if that makes me cute.” 

 

Alice rolled over so she faced FP. “I like this side of you,” she informed him, and she captured his lips with hers, hungry for his taste. “Don’t apologize.” She shifted so she was on her knees, and frowned at the fact that her husband was still fully clothed. “You can apologize for this, though,” she said, a smirk on her face as she tugged at his shirt. “Surely you don’t need this on?”

 

If she was only clad in a tiny piece of silk that she  _ knew _ FP wanted to tear off of her, the least he could do in return was take  _ his _ clothes off. 

 

“Oh,” he said. “Okay, babe, you still want to celebrate?” 

 

“Always,” she said. “I  _ always _ want to celebrate.” 

 

His flannel joined her pile of discarded clothes, and his t-shirt quickly followed, leaving him clad only in the jeans he’d worn to work that day, his boxers, and a pair of socks. “Wanna help?” He queried, and she giggled as he cocked a brow in her direction. 

 

“No, Jonesy, I think that today is a day I will watch,” she decided. “You are perfectly capable of undressing yourself to my satisfaction.” He gave her another kiss, slowly pulling away before he climbed off the bed, and she watched with interest as he slowly unbuckled his belt, clearly taking his sweet time removing his clothes. “You’re being a tease,” she whined. “Fuck, Jones, don’t play me today.”

 

“Thought we were taking a bath,” he said. “Didn’t realize I’d gotten you all hot for me.” 

 

“You  _ knew  _ what you were doing,” she corrected. “Don’t even pretend to be innocent with me.” Her fingers played with the lace edge of her underwear. “You keep me waiting, baby, I might just handle things myself.” Her threat to pleasure herself, while mostly an idle one, caused FP to spring into action, and she soon found herself joined in their bed by an equally undressed husband. “That’s better,” she said, and she pulled him close to her, so their lips met in a kiss. “What are you looking at?” She mused.

 

“You,” he told her. “Just think it’s fuckin’ miraculous that we have a little one on the way.” 

 

“I know,” she agreed. “Come here, you big oaf, and say hello to the baby,” she commanded. “I seem to recall you promising that you would talk to him or her later, did you not?”

 

“That’s right, I did,” FP agreed, and he moved his hand so it covered her abdomen. The gesture touched her, and she shifted over in bed so they were laid next to each other, her leg hooked over his. “Gotta say, little one, I’m beyond pumped for you,” he said, and his fingers traced designs on her skin. “You are gonna be one lucky kid,” he continued. “Your mom loves you so much, and you were so planned, and  _ so _ wanted. By everyone. Me, your ma, your sisters, and your brother.” Alice hummed contentedly. “When’s it gonna kick?” 

 

“You have a little bit before that happens,” she told him, and she noticed the pout gracing his features. “It’s okay, Jonesy,” she promised. “I will let you know the  _ second _ that the baby starts to kick, no matter what it is that either of us are doing. It’s just too little right now.”

 

“I forgot that they were too little at first,” he admitted, and she watched the tips of his ears redden. “It’s been awhile, you know…”   
  


“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I think it’s cute, how excited you are. You don’t need to explain yourself.” 

 

“Can the baby hear me, though?” FP asked, from his position near her navel. He pressed a kiss to her skin, and she smiled down at him. “I mean, do you know if it can or not? That would be so badass. I mean, it would be so cool. So awesome. Of course I don’t mean badass.” He rambled. Alice smirked. “Don’t talk how Daddy does,” he continued. “Be a good kid.” 

 

“You worry too much,” she informed him. “I don’t care how you speak,” she insisted. “I mean, would I prefer our children not being  _ quite _ as profane as their father? Perhaps. I think you’re hot, though. When you talk like that.”

 

“Mmm,” FP murmured. “You think I’m hot?” 

 

“Yeah,” she said. “The hottest.” 

 

“What do you say, mama?” He asked. “Wanna see what we can get up to in the bath?” Alice let out a squeal as he pressed a trail of kisses down her body. “Or you wanna see what we can get up to here?”

 

“The bath,” she requested, as he hooked his fingers in her underwear, tugging them off with the skill on he had, and her eyes widened as he slipped his fingers inside of her, her slick walls tightening around them. “Here works, too.” She said hastily, not wanting him to stop touching her for something as banal as a bath. “Don’t stop.” It was embarrassing how close she was to orgasming, on his fingers alone, but she supposed it was a benefit of pregnancy. It definitely stroked his ego. “Faster,” she panted, as she held onto his hair with one hand, and the headboard with the other, her moans on top of one another as he pumped his fingers in and out, hitting all of the right spots. “Mmm, FP, I  _ love _ you.” 

 

“Love you too, babe.” He murmured, as she let out a cry of pleasure, and she watched him stick his slickened fingers in his mouth, licking them clean, as she tried to catch her breath. “Did I make you feel good?” She nodded. “You taste good,” he added, and his lips captured hers in a kiss. She smiled against his lips, her hands in his hair. “I might taste you more,” he murmured into her ear, his voice low. “You feel up to that?”

 

“Yeah,” she assured him. “I just...don’t think I would be able to reciprocate at the moment,” she admitted. It was a shame that she thought that deep throating FP would lead to the nauseous feeling that had mostly abated turning into full blown morning sickness...but, well, he was  _ big _ and she  _ did not _ trust her gag reflex. “You know how big you are,” she elaborated, and she stroked his cock through his boxers, her smirk growing as she felt how hard he was already, when they’d barely done anything. “I feel testing it would be sexy to no one.” 

 

“Don’t be sorry, Allie,” he said. “Tonight’s about you, okay? Don’t worry about me.” 

  
  



	14. pride and joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They think I’m your daughter,” Jellybean whispered, so softly that she barely heard her. “They think I’m yours.”

“Morning,” FP whispered to Alice, his arms wrapped loosely around his gorgeous wife. “How is my babe today? And our baby?”

 

“Nauseated,” Alice replied. “Baby must be good, though.” She shifted in his arms, in order to look up at him. “I’m okay,” she added. “Just feeling pretty pregnant.”

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I wish you felt better.” He moved his hand so that it laid on her abdomen, and she snuggled closer to him, her hand covering his. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

 

“Can we stay in bed a little longer?” She requested. “That will probably help. Also, some ginger ale?”   
  


“Sure,” he agreed, as he squinted at the digital clock on the nightstand, acknowledging the time before he tugged the comforter back over them. It was early enough that they could go back to sleep without it screwing their whole day up, especially if going back to sleep meant that she would feel a bit better. “It’s alright, babe,” he whispered. “Just go back to sleep. I’ll get up later for the kids if you don’t feel well.” He rubbed his fingers across her skin with as much gentleness as he could. He hoped that it made a difference. What the hell did he know?

 

“You’d do that for me?” Alice asked him. “What--”   
  


“Whatever it is you think I’d rather do instead of letting you rest,” he insisted. “Whatever it is. It’s not true.” She let out a content sigh, and he smiled into her hair as she curled up even closer to him than she’d been before. There was just  _ something _ about being entwined together under their comforter, the little miracle growing inside of her protected by their hands, that made FP feel like he had really done something right for once. And, yeah, he knew that he’d done other things right, but it still...he really was proud of himself. He felt like they’d both beaten the odds. “I love you, Al,” he whispered. “I love you, and the baby, a lot.” 

 

“We love you, too,” she murmured. “Jonesy?” Her voice was low, filled with sleepiness, and he glanced down at her to see that her eyes were half-shut. “Can you stay home with me today? I got an appointment, and I want you to come.”

 

“Of course,” he agreed. It was the winter time, after all, and business was slower than usual. The crew that he had was capable of functioning on their own without him present, and, well, given that Fred was behind bars, he felt confident that he could spend the day at home with his pregnant wife. “Go back to sleep, babe.”

 

“Keep rubbing my belly,” she whispered. “It helps.” 

 

He didn’t have to be told twice. Anything that would make the pregnancy easier for Alice, FP was going to do, without question. Whether it was going out in the dead of night to make sure that she got the exact, specific, thing that she and their baby were craving (he had been quite a sight when she was pregnant with Lottie -- her cravings started in earnest soon after he’d come home to her, to them, to their new family, and he’d figured the  _ least _ he could do was obliging his increasingly pregnant wife-to-be with whatever the baby made her desire -- rolling up on his motorcycle to establishments that had  _ never _ had a Serpent of any sort, let alone their King, darken their doors); or getting up with the kids (the teachers at Riverdale Elementary had gotten used to seeing him dropping off Betty and Polly, especially as Alice got further along); or laying down beside her and heeding her request to rub her belly (Alice really didn’t like to ask for things, so when she did, he really wanted to follow through). 

 

He lifted the hem of her (his) t-shirt, and exposed her bare abdomen for a moment, before he covered the smooth skin with his hand, and rubbed his calloused fingers across the surface. Alice simply sighed contentedly. There wasn’t much there to feel (she just looked a little heavier than normal, not that FP ever minded. He’d cherished the polaroids that she’d sent him while she was pregnant with Lottie, one picture for every day that he’d been away, and he couldn’t wait to see that play out in real life), but, he didn’t mind. He knew that soon enough the baby would kick, and he would have rather Alice not been feeling ill when that happened. Just being able to touch her belly this early in the pregnancy was good enough. 

 

“Better?” He whispered. She nodded into his chest. “Night, babe,” he told her. “Get some rest.”

 

“Daddy???” The voice beside his ear was very insistent, and he cracked open an eye to see that Charlotte was the cause. The little girl was eyeing him with pure delight. “No school today.”

 

“What?” He questioned. “Why not?”

 

“It’s snowed out,” she told him. “Jelly and I saw on TV!”

 

“Shush, darling,” he whispered. “Mama’s sleeping. Wanna come up and cuddle with us?”

 

“Yes,” she said. “Jelly too?”

 

“Sure,” he said easily. “If she wants.” 

 

“I do want to, Daddy,” Jellybean chimed in. He propped himself up on his elbow to glance over at both the girls, and he stifled a yawn as he motioned then to get onto the bed. “When are you gonna work?”

 

“Gotta snow day too,” he told her. “You guys gotta be quiet though, because Mama needs to rest.” Jellybean nodded solemnly, and he watched her look cautiously at Alice. “Oh, hey, Bean, she’s alright. Just wanted to make sure she could sleep in. I bet she’d love if you cuddled with her.”

 

“Come here, sweetheart,” Alice whispered. “I missed you.”

 

Jellybean crawled over to Alice by way of crawling on him, and he winced as she kneed him in a sensitive part of his anatomy. 

 

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he heard her insist. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

 

“No, honey, it’s okay,” she said. “Don’t apologize. You can cuddle up with me right here, yeah?”

 

Jellybean nodded, the braids that Alice had put in her hair the night before bouncing wildly at the thought of being able to cuddle  _ with  _ Alice. Charlotte, on the other hand, had curled up by his side and seemed soundly asleep. Who knew where their daughter had inherited her placid nature from? Sure as hell wasn't from him or Alice. 

 

“Can we play in the snow???” She asked, her tone eager but her voice quiet. “It’s so pretty, Mama!”

 

“Later, baby,” she replied. “Daddy and I have some things to do today, but we’ll play at some point, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she agreed. “Both of you???”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Both of us.” Jellybean gave Alice a hug, before she went to hug him, and she snuggled up in between them. “It’ll be fun.”

 

“So much fun,” Jellybean agreed. “I wanna build snowmen.”

 

“Ooh, that sounds nice,” Alice agreed. “Daddy will be good at helping us. After we can have hot cocoa maybe?”

 

“Yeah!” 

 

“You sure?” He asked Alice. 

 

“I’m fine,” she said. “I want to.” She leaned over their daughter and pressed a kiss to his lips, which he eagerly reciprocated. “You want marshmallows too, baby?” He watched her tug on one of Jelly’s braids, and she nodded eagerly, grinning up at them both. “Want marshmallows  _ right _ now?”

 

“In your bed?” Jellybean asked. Alice nodded. “Okay, Mama.”

 

“Your daddy will get them for us,” Alice told her, and she flashed him a hopeful gaze. “You will, right?”   
  


“Happy to oblige,” he told them, and he dropped a kiss on Jellybean’s forehead, before kissing Alice once more. “You gonna be okay with our girls?”

 

“We’ll be fine, Jonesy.” 

 

FP carefully lifted Lottie into his arms and moved her further on to the bed so that she wouldn’t be scared if she woke up and found out she wasn’t there, before he grabbed his discarded t-shirt and slipped it on, flexing his muscles as he did. Was he putting on a show for his girls? Maybe a bit? But, Jellybean thought he was funny, and Alice thought he was sexy, and both those facts worked for him. He was glad that Alice was feeling better. He leaned over and brushed a kiss to their daughters’ cheeks, before kissing her once more, his hand  _ casually _ brushing against her midsection as he did. 

 

“Be right back,” he told them. “Marshmallows? Nothing else?”

 

“Marshmallows and peanut butter,” Alice settled on, her eyes glittering. He smirked. “That sounds delicious.” 

 

“I gotchu, babe,” he assured her. “Just be a minute.” 

 

FP took the stairs two at a time, marvelling at how quiet the house was. It was obvious that the older kids had taken the news that they had no school to mean that they could sleep in, which, really, he was fine with. He loved them all with all his heart (even Red), but even he had limits. Currently, it looked like his morning consisted of cuddling in bed with three of his girls, and helping Alice indulge her cravings. That was definitely fine with him. He loved Alice, and he loved their daughters. And (despite only knowing about the baby that was on the way for one day), he was  _ beyond _ excited for the baby. He honestly couldn’t wait until her doctor’s appointment. He just hoped that the baby was doing okay. And Alice. He wanted her to be okay, too.

 

He found the bag of marshmallows and the peanut butter, and he crept back up the stairs. He stood in the doorway for a minute, and watched Alice and Jellybean as they talked quietly, while Lottie remained soundly asleep. 

 

“What are you guys talking about?” He asked. Jellybean seemed particularly excited, and he felt a tug of jealousy at not being included in whatever made the seven year old perk up. “Wanna tell me?”   
  


“Mama says you already know,” she chirped, and she jumped off the bed and crossed the room to him, reaching her arms out to be picked up. FP was happy to. “She’s having a baby,” she continued. “I was scared she was sick, so she told me.”   
  


“I do know that,” he confirmed. “You’re excited, Bean?” 

 

“Yes,” she agreed. “Super excited.”

 

“We have an appointment today,” he informed her. “To check on Mama and the baby. If it’s alright with her, you want to come?”

 

Jellybean nodded. “Can I, Mama?” 

 

“You really want to?” Alice asked, and she beckoned them closer. Well, FP thought she was really beckoning the food in his hands closer, but, she was his pregnant wife, and damn did he love her. “If you want to, you can, okay? But, just you.”

 

“Yes, please,” she begged. “I really want to.”

  
  


***

  
  


By Alice’s assessment, little Forsythia Jones was the happiest of the three of them to be sitting in the waiting room at her obstetricians, as the seven year old seemed enraptured by her surroundings. Poor FP seemed to have turned into a nervous wreck the second they’d walked into the building (she had never seen his knees bounce so much, not even when he was in withdrawal), and she admired the fact that he was simply popping pieces of nicorette, rather than ducking in and out of the waiting room for a smoke. (Alice accepted that he would be smoking during her pregnancy -- she loved him, and she knew that if she had asked him to, he would quit, but she didn’t want to risk him ruining his sobriety as a result of his desire to be noble  -- but she also knew that it was something he hated drawing attention to.) And, well, while she was excited about the potential of hearing the baby’s heartbeat and maybe even seeing him or her, what Alice really wanted was to stop feeling like she was going to be hideously sick if she breathed the wrong way. 

 

“You still don’t feel well?” FP whispered into her ear, and she minutely shook her head, allowing him to wrap his arms around her, his hands settling on her abdomen. “Maybe they can help…?”

 

“I’m going to ask,” she told him. “There’s a medication…” She managed to smile in Jellybean’s direction. “I think we’re going to get to see the baby for the first time today,” she told her. “Thank you for coming with us.”

 

“You’re welcome, Mama,” she said. “That’s really cool.”

 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It’s really cool, and I’m glad that you and your dad came with me.” 

 

“You said I could.”

 

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” 

 

Jellybean nodded, and when she noticed that her seven year old’s heart eyes were solely directed at her midsection, she gave her an encouraging grin, and took her hand in hers, and pressed it -- gently -- where she surmised the baby was. 

 

“Will we find out what it is today?” Jellybean asked. Her eyes were wide. Alice shook her head.

 

“Not yet, baby,” she said. “The little one is too small right now.” 

 

“Oh,” she said. She eyed Alice and FP contemplatively. “Can we call it marshmallow?”

 

“You want to?” She asked.

 

“I think it’s catchy, Allie,” FP murmured. “I don’t have a problem with it, if you don’t.”

 

“Of course I don’t,” she assured them. “I think Marshmallow is a lovely nickname, Jellybean.” She pulled Jellybean into a gentle hug. “You’re a very sweet sister.” 

 

Her name was called, and she let FP help her stand, noting all the while how happy Jellybean was. She had been somewhat leery of telling the second grader that she was pregnant -- especially when it was something so new -- but, well, Jellybean had confessed that she had been terrified of what had happened when Jonesy had told her not to wake her up, and Alice found herself divulging the reason to the little girl. It had been worth it to see her tears go away and her pride at the fact that her parents had ‘listened’ to her suggestion. In truth, Alice wondered if the suggestion had come  _ after _ the act that had conceived little Marshmallow, but she certainly wasn’t dissuading Jellybean’s joyful thoughts. 

 

The examination went routinely.

 

Alice had done these things many times over the years, of course, and the presence of Jellybean and FP was a novelty to her, but not an unwelcome one. Both of her companions were glad to hold one of her hands, and, if that meant that they behaved themselves, that made Alice happy indeed. Obviously, little Forsythia had never been to one of her appointments before (she sent a silent prayer up to God for the fact that she had never been to one for Gladys, either), but, it was clear to her that this was her husband’s first go-round at the initial prenatal appointment as well. FP was squeezing her hand so tightly it was like he was doing an impression of her during her previous labor (she was impressed at his grip strength and concerned for his blood pressure), and it was only the fact that things were generally looking good and that the doctor had been persuaded to provide her with her anti-nausea medication that had likely been the cause of him continuing to stay upright. Alice thought it was cute. Jellybean had dazzled every medical professional that had come into the room by her attentive big sister behavior, and the praise they had given her had caused her to be a wriggling ball of happy excitement. 

 

“What’s gotten you so excited?” She asked her gently. “We haven’t even gotten to see the baby yet.”

 

“They think I’m your daughter,” Jellybean whispered, so softly that she barely heard her. “They think I’m yours.”

 

“You  _ are _ my daughter,” she insisted. “You’ll always be my daughter, even though you’re not mine biologically. Don’t ever think otherwise.” 

 

“You know Mama loves you, Bean,” FP interjected. “You’re her kid.” 

 

“I know,” she said. “It still made me happy.” 

 

Alice pressed a kiss to her daughter’s cheek. “You want to come up?” She patted the spot beside her. “I bet your dad will lift you up so you can.”

 

“Sure I will,” he agreed. “You wanna, Bean?”   
  


“Yeah,” she said, and she nodded eagerly. “I wanna  _ so badly _ come up, Daddy. Please help me?”

 

“Of course, angel.” FP released his death grip on Alice’s hand, before he pressed a kiss to her lips. She watched as he slipped off of the stool he’d been sitting on to cross over to the other side of the room to pick up Jellybean, and she grinned at them both when he plunked her down beside her. “Be gentle with Mama,” he instructed. 

 

Jellybean tenderly patted her abdomen, and Alice smiled down at her, the gesture making her feel rather teary. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, just in time for the doctor to return. 

 

The gel that was smeared on her abdomen was cool to the touch, but, any minor discomfort Alice felt as a result was worth it when the sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room, which was followed quickly by the appearance of the baby on the screen. She let FP take her hand again, her awe at the little miracle they’d created taking precedence over the fact that his grip was strong enough to crush her. 

 

“Everything looks good so far,” the doctor was telling them, and she forced herself to listen to her, rather than focus on the little marshmallow on the screen. “It does, however, appear that you’re expecting twins.”

 

“What?” She breathed. “Twins? You’re not serious?”   
  


“Yes, Mrs. Jones, I’m serious,” she said. “There is baby A, and there is baby B. You appear to be about ten weeks along.” 

 

“A and B are  _ boring _ nicknames,” Jellybean announced. “Marshmallow and Fluff are  _ way _ better.” 

 

Alice giggled. FP kept staring intently at the screen. “We’ll see about Fluff, yeah?” She squeezed his hand. “What are you thinking about, babe?”

 

“Twins,” he whispered. “Two babies?” 

 

“Yes,” she said, her eyes filled with delight. “Your two babies. Our two babies.”

 

“Would you like a copy of the ultrasound?” The doctor asked. 

 

“Yes,” she said, her tone decisive. “One for each of us.”

 

“Me too?” Jellybean asked, a pout on her face as the image on the screen went away. 

 

“Yes, of course you,” she told her. “What do you think, Jellybelly? Two baby siblings?”

 

Jellybean giggled. “So much fun, Mama.”

 

“What about you, big guy?” Alice asked, as FP glanced down at her, his gaze more full of love than Alice could ever imagine. “You happy?”   
  


“I think you’re amazing,” he told her. “Wow, Allie, twins. We’ve really done it, haven’t we?” He pressed his hand down on her belly, and she smiled up at him. “Guess that does explain why you’re kinda showing.”

 

“Jonesy!”

 

“I think it’s hot,” he admitted. “I don’t mind at all.” 


	15. the pursuit of happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, you were the best,” he said. “You were a good baby, Jellybelly.”

“What about Cocoa and Marshmallow?” Jellybean asked Alice and himself as she wriggled on to their bed between them, her eyes filled with childlike hope. “Mama, what do you think?”

 

“What about Candy Cane?” Alice suggested. “You like that, Jelly?”

 

“Yes,” she said. “Do you think that Candy Cane and Marshmallow need actual names?” 

 

FP snorted, and he grinned down at his middle child. “Yeah, baby girl, think they might need actual names. I mean, for the sake of Mama’s blood pressure. Don’t really think she’d ever legally name a kid that.”

 

“We have plenty of time to pick out names for them,” Alice informed the two of them, but the smile on her face betrayed her affected tone of irritation. “Right now, I want to nap with two of my favorite people, and then, I believe, I promised Jellybelly that we’d go out and play in the snow.” 

 

“We don’t have to, Mama,” Jellybean insisted. “I didn’t know you were pregnant when I asked. I shouldn’t have.”

 

“No, honey, I want to. We can go out and make snow angels, and I can help you and Daddy decorate a snowman, maybe?” 

 

“That sounds fun!” Both of his girls eyed him expectantly, and he couldn’t help chuckle at the sight. “It’s  _ not _ funny, Daddy.” 

 

“Of course not,” he agreed. “I just think that you and your mom are cute, that’s all.” 

 

Alice leaned over Jellybean and kissed him on the cheek. “Will you play with us in the snow, Jonesy?” 

 

“Yeah, Allie, it would be my pleasure. I’d love to.” 

 

“Are you feeling better?” Jellybean asked, and he watched as she carefully placed her hand on Alice’s abdomen. “I mean, you don’t think you’ll be sick anymore?”   
  


“No, darling,” she said. “Right now, I’m fine. I’m just tired, but that’s normal,” she explained. “Your little siblings are doing some growing in there. Don’t worry, I’m alright.”

 

“If you’re tired, we should nap,” she insisted. “For the babies.”

 

“Course we’re going to nap,” he said. “Surely my big girl Jellybelly isn’t tired, though? Why would she possibly be?”   
  


“Cause I woke you up really early,” Jellybean admitted, and he chuckled. “I didn’t mean to, Lottie was just excited about the snow, and no school.” 

 

“It’s fine, princess,” he whispered. “I don’t mind you waking me up. You have a good day?” 

 

“Yes, I got to see the babies,” she cooed. “They were so little, but they  _ looked _ like babies. Super cute.”

 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” She nodded. “I remember when it was you on the ultrasound screen,” he reminisced. “One of the best moments of my life, you know? Getting to meet my little girl.”

 

“Was I a good baby, Daddy?” 

 

“Yeah, you were the best,” he said. “You were a good baby, Jellybelly.”

 

“What about Lottie?” 

 

“Didn’t get to see the first one in person,” he admitted. “Wish I’d been able to.” He sighed. “Mama made sure to record it for me.” 

 

“That was nice of Mama,” she said, and she glanced over at Alice. He followed her gaze, and he noticed that somehow, despite the presence of their chatterbox child, Alice had managed to fall soundly asleep, glasses still on, her hand at rest on her belly. “Oh, Daddy, she’s sleeping.”

 

“She’s tired, Bean. She’s growing two new lives.” 

 

“It’s so cool,” she gushed. “Thank you for listening to me, Daddy. I never thought you would listen to me twice though.”

 

“Well, you know, I wanted to make my girl happy,” he said. “Daddy’s good like that.” Jellybean kissed him on the cheek, and he reached over her to take Alice’s glasses off, setting them on the bedside table. “Come ‘ere,” he whispered. “Come snuggle up.”

 

“What do you think they’re up to in there?” Jellybean asked him, as she obliged him and snuggled up between him and Alice, and he watched her cover Alice’s hand with hers. “You think they want to nap too?”

 

“Yeah, probably,” he agreed. “Your mom is asleep.” He pressed a kiss to the top of JB’s head. “They want you to nap with them,” he told her. FP wasn’t above manipulating his children to get what needed to be done done, like napping with him and Alice. JB appeared to have fallen for it, at least. “Mama’ll like that too.”

 

“Okay,” she whispered. “I want her and the babies to like me.” 

 

“She does, Bean,” he whispered. “She loves you. The babies do too.”

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

“Yeah, kiddo,” he whispered. “Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

 

“I love them, too,” Jellybean chirped. “So much.” 

 

“I know, kiddo.” FP let out a yawn, unable to stop himself. He was beat. “Come on, Jells. Nap time.” 

 

He was sure that he would quickly become the laughingstock of the Serpents if he was ever caught in the state of affectionate softness he was currently experiencing, but, well, FP had long since given up giving a flying fuck what people thought of him. Caring about people’s opinions had never gotten him anywhere, let alone anywhere resembling good, in life, with the exception of caring about Alice’s opinion. Hers, and the kids, were the only ones that mattered to him. If they were happy, so was he. 

 

And they were, and he was. 

 

Jellybean settled down, her wriggling having stopped, and he tugged the comforter over Alice’s sleeping form, making sure that it covered her before he covered himself and Jellybean, who actually looked tired. He thought that was a miracle. 

 

“Sleep tight, princess,” he whispered. “We’ll go play in the snow in a little bit, okay?”

 

“Only if Mama Allie feels okay,” she responded. “I don’t want to make her sick.”

 

“She’ll be alright,” he promised. “Don’t worry about her.” 

 

Jelly pouted. “She’s my mom now,” she sighed. “I want her to feel better.” 

 

“She will,” he said. “After the nap.” 

 

“Okay,” she agreed, and he watched her carefully tuck herself against Alice, making sure that the babies were cocooned by her form. “I’m sleepy, Daddy.” 

 

“Me too,” he said. “I love you, Bean.”

  
  
  



	16. heightened emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ll be okay, kid,” he said. “Don’t worry too much about that bastard, you hear? You’re better than him. You always will be. I promise you.”

“What are you guys up to?” Betty questioned her stepfather as he stood on the back porch, clearly nursing a coffee and cigarette as he watched a most miraculous of sights -- there was Betty’s mother actually  _ playing _ in the snow with Lottie and Jellybean. Oh, sure, the Jones’ family matriarch didn’t exactly appear to be overly enjoying herself, but the sight was strange nonetheless. “Is she feeling okay?”

 

“I think so,” FP replied. “They wanted to play with her, she said yes, I became chopped liver. It’s okay, Betty. I’m just glad that they’re all having a good time.” 

 

“How did Mom’s doctor’s appointment go?” She questioned, somewhat curious. “Was it because of her nose? I told her she looked fine.”

 

“Ah, no, Betty,” he said. “It had nothing to do with her nose. But, uh, everything is going okay, and it’s kind of sort of obvious, so, you can know, if you want. I don’t know how long Jellybean can keep a secret, anyways.” 

 

“What is it?” 

 

“Come here,” he said, and he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, and opened it up, taking out a photograph, before he looped his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close. FP always smelled like cigarettes and coffee, layered over the cologne her mother bought him, and being able to breathe in his scent helped center her. “Your mom and I, we’ve been trying to have another baby,” he started to explain. Betty felt herself flush. She didn’t want to think of them in such situations. “And, we weren’t expecting anything to happen this quickly, but, here we are. That one is Marshmallow,” he said, and he pointed to one of the little ones on the printout, “and this one is Candy Cane. Your sister came up with the names,” he said. “She’s ten weeks.”

 

“Is she okay?” Betty worried about her mom, almost constantly. “Are the babies?”

 

“Everyone is perfect. Everything is perfect. I swear to you.”

 

Betty decided to accept this. She didn’t really trust Alice when she told her that things were fine (Alice was typically lying), but, she trusted FP. He had always tried to tell her the truth, or, at least, a child friendly version. She watched as he took a sip of his coffee, trying to work up the courage to ask him the question that had been on her mind for the better part of a month. 

 

“Do you think that I could call you Dad?” Betty asked him nervously, prepared for a no. “Mom said she thought you would be okay with it and Jughead said he wouldn’t be mad, and I understand if you don’t want me to. Because of my father.”

 

“I’d be honored,” he whispered. “Forget about your father. He’s a jerk. I’d love to be your dad if you want me to be.”

 

“I’m sorry about the dance,” she blurted out. “I knew that he was going to be pissed if you took me but you  _ asked  _ if I wanted to go and I wanted to go so badly that I just took my chances.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize for what happened,” he said. “I knew he was going to freak out. I just wanted to take you. I was sick of him always taking Polly and never giving you a second glance. I knew when I married your mother. I knew what I was getting into. I’m a gang leader, Betty. I can handle your asshole of a father. I just wish that he had left us the hell alone when he saw us there.” He squeezed her tightly. “We can go to the next one together.”

 

“Won’t you be busy with Mom, and the babies?”

 

“I’ll never be too busy to spend time with you,” FP said. “I’m sure that we can work something out. I know the dance is important to you.”

 

“Are you sure?” Betty questioned. “It’s not...it would be okay with me, if we couldn’t go. I understand that Mom might need you, to help her with the babies.” 

 

“Yeah, Betty, I’m sure,” he said. “I know that you think that it’s just a dance, or whatever, but, you’re my kid. I wouldn’t blow you off if I could make things so I didn’t have to.” 

 

Betty nodded. “I just wanted to make sure.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. FP lit another cigarette. “Do you think that Jellybean will remember?”   
  


“I hope to Christ not,” he muttered. “She’d be better off if she didn’t. I don’t understand why she couldn’t have  _ waited _ until they left, dammit. Why did she have to pin that on them? They’re just kids, they didn’t need that shit. I should have fought harder. Demanded custody.”

 

“Why didn’t you?” Betty asked. Maybe it was out of bounds -- it definitely was out of bounds, her mother would be furious if she’d known that Betty was asking -- but she couldn’t help being curious. “You tried, didn’t you?”

 

“I couldn’t put your mother through it,” he said, after a moment. “You have to understand, Betty. They would have interrogated her. She was already going through that with your father. I couldn’t make her do it twice. Not with the baby to consider. Split custody was more than I thought I deserved. I didn’t know she was doing drugs.” 

 

“Juggie never said anything to me, either,” she said. “I just...I wish that he had. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe Jellybean wouldn’t have...found her.”   
  


“Wished a lot of things, kid, it never did me a hell of a lot of good. You know how it goes.” 

 

She watched him ash out the cigarette. “I think you did alright,” she said. “Dad.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“You don’t think that I’ll be like him, do you? I don’t want to be.” 

 

“You’ll be okay, kid,” he said. “Don’t worry too much about that bastard, you hear? You’re better than him. You always will be. I promise you.”   
  


“I really don’t have to see him again?” 

 

“You really don’t have to see him again,” he confirmed. “Not unless you want to.” 

 

Betty tended to pride herself on being an agreeable child. The steady one that Alice could always rely on to behave in a consistent manner, in comparison to Polly’s inability to not push every one of her mother’s buttons, preferably all at once. It had been  _ easy _ being the people pleaser. If Mom was happy with Betty and if Hal was happy with Betty, the two adults had tended to put their mutual happiness at Betty at the forefront of their minds, and table their petty disagreements, at least in her presence. Sure, they had often reserved their fights for the dead of night, when Betty tried to pretend she was sleeping as harsh whispers gave way to harsher words, and things were thrown, and doors slammed, but, Betty had always felt that she had done her part. Just like she had agreed to her father’s visitation requests, even though Betty would have greatly preferred never seeing the man ever again. It had been simpler to agree if her seeing him made him give her mother the divorce that she wanted. That she’d needed to feel safe. 

 

“I  _ never _ wanted to see him,” she explained. “Polly wanted to, but I didn’t. I was scared of what he would do if I didn’t agree to it. What if he’d gotten us full time? He told me if I didn’t agree, he would.”

 

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” 

 

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” she said. “He got what he wanted and pretty much left us alone, didn’t he? Except when he was bullshitting Mom into keeping him on at the Register because he was too controlling to get hired anywhere else.” 

 

“He’s not going to hurt your mother anymore,” FP said. “And, Betty, he’s sure as  _ hell _ not going to hurt you, because you’re  _ my _ daughter. I don’t care what anyone says or what any  _ legality _ tells me. You’ve been my kid since I married your mother. No matter what happens between us, you will always be my kid.” 

 

“You promise?” 

 

“Yeah, sweetheart, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What do you say we go play with your mom and your sisters?” 

 

“You think they’d want us to?” 

 

“Of course,” he said. “Your mom probably could use the backup.”   
  


 

***

  
  


“What’s with you?” Alice questioned, as she stripped off her layers of clothing, more than ready to curl up with FP under their blankets and get some sleep. She was rather exhausted. The kids had worn her out. “You look happy.” 

 

“It’s nothing, Al,” he said, though the wide grin that her husband sported was betraying him. “Just, happy. That’s allowed, isn’t it?” 

 

“Jonesy…” She gazed up at him, as she took her anti-nausea pills, and she patted the bed beside her, hoping he would take her up on the invitation. “Of course, you’re allowed to be happy,” she said. “I was just wondering if there was a specific reason for this?”

 

He crawled into bed beside her, clad only in his boxers, and he pressed his body against hers, his arms wrapped around her middle. “Betty asked me if she could call me dad,” he told her, as he ran his hands down her sides, and she shivered with pleasure. “I said yes. I just wish that it could be legal, or that it would ever be acknowledged by anyone.” 

 

“It doesn’t matter, what people think,” she said, her tone quiet. “If you want to be her father, to be the one she calls dad, I support that. I support it being done legally, too.”

 

“How the hell would that even happen?” 

 

“Harold has inquired, via his attorney, as to whether or not I would be willing to entertain him voluntarily relinquishing his parental rights,” she said, her tone clipped. “What good does having him in their lives bring? We don’t need his money. I still get my alimony. Not that we really need that. And Betty doesn’t want him around. She wants you, honey. You’ve been the closest thing she’s  _ ever _ had to a father. The only thing is that you would have to be willing to adopt them.” 

 

“Of course, I’m willing,” he whispered. “Alice, I love those girls. I would do anything if it meant keeping them safe. I’d kill for them, if I had to. I’d kill Cooper.” 

 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Forsythe, no one is killing Harold.” 

 

“You’d kill him too.” It wasn’t a question, and Alice knew that. She nodded slightly. “He’d deserve it.”

 

“Of course he’d deserve it,” she said, her tone bitter. “He’d deserve everything that came to him. I just...I can’t do that to the kids,” she admitted. “I can’t  _ hurt _ him how I want to hurt him because, ultimately, they’re the ones that get hurt. I’d rather be done with him entirely.” 

 

“Polly will be pissed off,” he mumbled.

 

“She’ll have to get over herself. There is absolutely no  _ way _ I am letting her win her perverse battle to keep him as her father. I don’t care if she  _ never _ looks at you as her dad, I am not ruining this opportunity because of a  _ teenage girl _ that thinks she’s his favorite. If she’s his favorite, why the hell did he send her there, to that horrible place?”

 

“I don’t know, baby.” She shifted closer to her husband, and allowed him to spoon with her, needing the comfort that his embrace provided her. “I don’t think I can ever understand that. I never understood why he sent  _ you _ there.”

 

“Because of our son,” she muttered. Alice didn’t often talk about Charles. It made her sad. She wished that she had been strong enough to stand up to Hal, stand up to her mother, and talk to FP and keep the baby, even if keeping the baby had meant that he was their only child. But, then, thinking that way made her feel  _ horrible _ because she had children she loved, and FP had children she loved, and she didn’t want them to not exist because she had a case of the sads. “I think about trying to find him, sometimes,” she whispered. “I don’t know if that’s something you’d even be interested in.”

 

“I’d like to try, at least,” he whispered, his chin on her shoulder. “Maybe he’s looking for you, too.”

 

Alice scoffed. “Who would ruin their lives and look for me?”


	17. Probability: Baggage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I punched her because she said you weren’t my mom,” she admitted. “That was what upset me.”

The Christmas season was fast approaching, not that there was much of a Christmas spirit at the Joneses, at least, not on the levels that Alice approved of. It was important to her that the other residents of her home tolerate the season with the levels of aplomb that she had learned to over the years, but, alas, it seemed that she was fighting a losing battle. Sure, the house was outfitted as it typically was, to excessive perfection, and the music she piped through her downstairs area was as festive as could be. 

 

Things just seemed...off. 

 

Sure, she supposed it was a change, not having to subject themselves to dealing with Harold during the Christmas season, but that was supposed to make the children  _ happy _ not sad. And of course there was Archibald to consider. The poor child was not adjusting as well as she’d hoped. 

 

Of course, FP was doggedly going along with her holiday related whims, clearly determined to keep his pregnant wife happy. He had even stood on the ladder in the snow to make sure her outdoor light display was satisfactory. He was always good like that. 

 

It was in the spirit of Christmas that Alice had taken the fact that Riverdale Elementary had called her at work to inform her that Jellybean was in the Principal’s office for fighting in remarkably good stride, given her raging hormones and the fact that she didn’t think that physical violence was an appropriate way to deal with one’s problems. She knew that FP wasn’t able to leave work (given Fred’s incarceration), and she was capable of doing so, so to the elementary school she’d went, thoroughly unamused. 

 

“I don’t understand why you you  _ punched out  _ that girl, young lady,” Alice demanded of Jellybean, who at least had the sense to look some sense of abashed at the fact that she was sat in the main office, and in some sort of trouble, though whether or not Alice was going to let the school’s punishment stand was yet to be seen. She wasn’t going to have Forsythia unfairly punished. “Do you care to tell me what happened?” 

 

She sat down in the chair next to her. “I’m going to find out whether you tell me, or not,” she informed her, not out of a sense of cruelty, but because it was the truth. “Why don’t you explain what happened and I will see if I can fix things?”

 

Jellybean sniffled. “I didn’t mean to,” she told her. “I just...she made me really mad.” 

 

“Yes, but what did she say?” 

 

“They  _ know _ about what happened to my mom,” she whispered. “I don’t know how they found out, I didn’t  _ tell _ anyone, but they  _ know _ about how she died, how she was dealing drugs, how she  _ killed _ herself.” Jellybean sniffled loudly. “I try to ignore it most of the time, because you’re my mom now, and I know you wouldn’t  _ do  _ that kind of stuff.” 

 

Alice felt her blood start to boil, and she forced herself to remain calm, not wanting to alarm Jellybean anymore than she already was. When Alice found out who was telling the second graders about what had happened to Gladys, she was going to tear them apart, whether they were a child themselves or not. 

 

“Today we were talking about what our plans were for Christmas break,” she said, her tone small. “I was telling everyone that you had made the house all pretty and that you said we could bake stuff together for Christmas and how excited I was that Juggie and I get to spend  _ every _ Christmas with you and Daddy and I called you Mama and Trinity said that you  _ weren’t _ my mom and that Betty and Polly aren’t my sisters and I couldn’t--”

 

“It’s okay, Jellybean,” Alice assured her. This little tale had done nothing to soothe her psyche. “Listen, sweetheart,” she said. “Let’s just ignore Trinity when she says purposely hurtful things. She probably knows that her parents named her something completely ‘on trend’ because they live to make my ears bleed whenever I have to process that that is an actual excuse for a name,” she sighed. “I promise you, the opinion of some two bit child that I don’t even know won’t stop me from being your mother, or Polly and Betty from being your sisters.” She shook her head. “Punching people is wrong, but I can see why you did so. Come here.”

 

“Why?” Jellybean mumbled.

 

“I want to give you a hug,” she told her. “And then we’re going to deal with this debacle, once and for all.” Jellybean gave her a gentle hug, and she pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t worry, Jellybelly. I’m not mad at you.” 

 

“Everyone else is, though.” 

 

“Everyone?” Alice raised a brow. “Do tell?”

 

“Ms. Grundy, Principal Stanger,” she snuffled. “They don’t care that they’ve been saying mean things about me,” she continued. “They just care that I hit her. She deserved it.”   
  


“I don’t disagree,” she said, a scowl gracing her features. “I don’t think that they’ll continue behaving in this manner, if they know what is good for them.” 

 

“They said when you got here they needed to talk to you.” 

 

Alice smiled serenely. “Don’t worry, darling,” she purred. “They won’t be doing the talking. Come with me. I’ll fix things for you.” 

 

“You will, Mama?”   
  


“Don’t I always?” 

 

Alice Jones wasn’t going to let her daughter be bullied by a group of her contemporaries and then continue to be failed by adults in positions of power that were supposed to help her and were instead choosing to pander to the whining, sniveling brat that was known as Trinity, whom Alice could only assume was the child displaying crocodile tears in the office, whilst dumb and dumber were rending their garments trying to help ‘comfort’ her. She barely resisted openly rolling her eyes at the sight. 

 

“Ah, Mrs. Jones--” 

 

“Apologize to Forsythia,” she demanded, her tone firm, and her gaze unamused. “How dare you and your faculty foster an environment where you punish people that are being bullied for situations that are outside of their control? What? Trinity here decides that she has to make a mockery out of a very painful situation because she has some sort of perfect nuclear family and she views  _ my _ daughter as an easy target? Then when Jellybean defends herself  _ she _ gets in trouble? I won’t stand for it.” 

 

“They’re children,” the Principal said. “Geraldine can’t stop them from discussing things. Kids talk.”

 

“Oh, really? Do you think I was born yesterday? You two just don’t care because you think that her feelings don’t matter because of the circumstances in which she was brought up! You think that because she’s a Jones that it’s okay to treat her terribly because what? Her father and I are in charge of the Serpents?” She scoffed. “Jellybean is not apologizing to anyone here. She doesn’t need to. I won’t be party to you pandering to this spoiled brat who purposely  _ goaded _ her, and for what? Answer me, Trinity? What gave you the right to say a damn thing to my daughter? You think it’s funny that her mother died?”

 

“She makes fun of Jughead, too,” Jellybean supplied. “Cause he can’t hear well.” 

 

“Do you? So that’s discriminatory against a person with a disability. Wonderful. Is this really what we’re teaching at our public schools?”   
  


“I don’t think that’s very fair!’

 

“Oh, please, life isn’t fair,” she snapped. “I will be taking Forsythia home,” she informed them. “You will be hearing from my attorney.” 

 

“People like you don’t have--”   
  
“People like me? People like me?” Alice crossed her arms in an attempt to remain calm. “You have  _ no idea _ what people like me can do to you. Perhaps you shouldn’t test me.” She glanced over at Jellybean. “Come on, darling. Let’s go home.” 

 

***

  
  


“Are you mad at me?” Jellybean asked her mom nervously, still more than a bit confused about what had happened at the school. “Am I in trouble for punching Trinity?” 

 

“No,” she muttered, as she tapped away at her phone. “You’re not in trouble. I just don’t want you in that school for awhile. I’ll homeschool you before I let you get bullied for what happened to your mother.” 

 

“I punched her because she said you weren’t my mom,” she admitted. “That was what upset me.”

 

“Of course I’m your mother,” she whispered, and she glanced over at her, and Jellybean watched as she put the phone back in her purse. “Honey, I don’t care what people say. I know that I’m your mom, and that we’re a family, and that you’re my daughter. I thought of you as one of my own  _ long _ before Gladys passed.” 

 

“What about Candy Cane and Marshmallow?” Jellybean fretted. “Are they okay? I don’t want them to be upset like you were.”

 

“They’re okay, sweetie,” Alice said. “And, of course they’re your siblings. What do you think about spending the rest of the day together?” 

 

“You don’t have to go back to work?” 

 

Mama Allie smiled at her, and she shook her head. “No, doll, not today. I have some stuff I can work on at home, but I don’t have to. I’m fine just spending time with you.” 

 

Jellybean cuddled close to her, and she took care not to squish her mom where the babies were (Daddy had told her that she could touch Mama’s belly and interact with her unborn siblings, but that she would have to be careful because they were delicate and he didn’t want them or Mama to get hurt), but she settled her on her lap, the little bump that the babies called home tantalizingly close to Jellybean and her curious hands. She carefully pressed her palms down. 

 

“Do they kick yet, Mama?”

 

“No, sweetie, not yet,” she said, as she pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You and your dad are both  _ very _ excited for that to happen, aren’t you?” 

 

“Daddy says that he can’t wait.” 

 

“What about you?” 

 

“I want to feel them now,” she insisted. “But, I get that they have to be bigger and stuff. Do you think that they’ll kick for me?” 

 

“Of course they will,” she said. “You’re their big sister, baby girl. You’re gonna have to teach Lottie everything that you know about being a good one, okay? Will you do that for me and your daddy?”

 

“Uh huh.” Jellybean loved Lottie. “Mama, does she have to stay at school?” 

 

“For the rest of the day,” she said, her tone decisive. “Your dad is going to go get her, and then we will discuss it from there.” 

 

“Okay, Mama.” Jellybean kissed her on the cheek, and she laid her head on her chest. “I’m sorry that I was bad.” 

 

“You weren’t bad, Jellybelly,” she whispered. “You’re the best. Of all of us. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

 

“You’re good too, Mama,” Jellybean insisted. “It’s okay. Don’t be sad.” 

 

“I’m not sad. Just hormonal because of the babies.” Jellybean didn’t really understand what hormonal meant, and she pouted at the news that the babies had hurt their mother. She loved Candy Cane and Marshmallow but she didn’t want Alice to be sad because of them. “What’s the matter?”

 

“You said that the babies made you sad,” she whispered. “Or...hormonal, whatever that means. I don’t know.”

 

“Oh, sweetie, I’m not sad,” she said. “I’m just...experiencing a lot of emotions right now. Does that make sense to you?” 

 

“I think so,” Jellybean told her. “It’s okay that you feel like that? They’re not hurting you or anything?”

 

“Oh, darling, no, of course not,” she said, and her tone cheered Jellybean up. “No, sweetie, it’s perfectly normal. I’m fine.” 

 

“Okay, Mama,” she settled on, as she snuggled closer to her. “Thank you for coming to get me.” 

 

“You don’t have to thank me,” she said. “You’re my daughter. I will always come to get you.” 

  
  



	18. extended family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So should Jughead and Archie,” she pointed out. “Mama said you were working and couldn’t come get me, so she went to get me instead. I got suspended.”

“Al? You home?” FP called out as he entered the house, Jughead and Archie on his heels. “I went by the paper, and you weren’t there,” he continued. “I was hoping you were here so that I could leave these two juvenile delinquents and get back to work.” 

 

He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and he glanced in their direction, unpleasantly surprised to see Jellybean standing there, when she also should have been in school. His second youngest looked as if she had been abruptly roused, and he peered at her, wondering what had happened. 

 

“Forsythia Jones, where the hell is your mother?”

 

“She’s sleeping, Daddy,” Jellybean replied, an evident tone to her voice. “She said that she wanted to nap with me. You woke me up.”

 

“What are you doing home? You should be in school.”   
  


“So should Jughead and Archie,” she pointed out. “Mama said you were working and couldn’t come get me, so she went to get me instead. I got suspended.”   
  


“What did you do? Jellybean! You’re eight!” 

 

“I punched out Trinity Mantle,” she mumbled, her gaze downcast. “She was being mean to me, she told everyone in school about what happened back in Toledo and she made fun of me for calling Mama Allie my mom and Ms. Grundy said that she was allowed to say those things because they were true. But I love Mama. She  _ is _ my mom.” 

 

“Oh.” FP bit back a sigh. “Of course she’s your mom,” he assured her. “Screw all those people that don’t feel that way, okay, Jellybelly? She might not have given birth to you, or to your brother, but she’s always gonna be your mother. You shouldn’t punch people out, but I get why you were tempted to.” He pressed his lips together. “Is she all right, Jellybean?”

 

“Yes, she said that she was tired because of the babies,” she informed him. “I think she’s had a long day.” She shrugged. “What are they doing home?”

 

“Your brother and Red got into a fight with the Mantle boy,” he said, as he ran his hands through his hair. “It appears that he has been saying things that make them uncomfortable. Probably where his sister gets it.” 

 

“Jonesy?” Alice had appeared, and if Jellybean had looked like she had rolled out of bed, Alice looked like he had woken her from a damn enchanted slumber. Not that she looked bad. He thought Alice looked hot, pretty much constantly. “What are you doing home so early?” 

 

“The boys have gotten themselves suspended,” he said. “Alice, I’m so sorry for waking you. I didn’t realize you were sleeping. Are you feeling okay?”

 

She nodded. “I’m fine, I just thought I would try the whole relaxing thing that everyone is always telling me about.” She stifled a yawn. “Don’t worry about us, I’ll be okay with the kids. Jughead and Archie can do whatever they want, I’m going to go back to sleep until it’s time to get Betty and Lottie.”

 

“I can get them, Allie,” he whispered, as he wrapped her in a hug. “You and Bean can nap together, let me worry about the kids.”

 

“You have work--”   
  


“Al, it’s my job to help you with the kids, too,” he said. “I know you don’t like getting help, but I think that it will do you some good to finish your nap, and the schools some good to remember who they’re dealing with.”

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

He kissed her softly. “Yeah, babe. I’m sure. You want to keep napping with Mama?” He asked Jellybean. 

 

“Yes,” she whispered. “Let’s go back to sleep, Mama. Candy Cane and Marshmallow need you to rest so they can get big and strong.”

 

“That’s a good big sister,” he said encouragingly, and she gave him a tight hug, before she took Alice by the arm and led her back to the living room. “Listen to me,” he told the boys. “Don’t you dare wake up Jughead’s stepmother,” he hissed. “I don’t care what you two do, leave Alice and Jellybean alone, unless they wake up first.” 

 

“I’m not going to bother Jellybean and Alice, Dad,” Jughead insisted. “I won’t let Archie, either.”

 

“Red?” 

 

“I’ll be quiet,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry you had to come get us.”   
  


“It’s not your fault,” he sighed. “I get that things have been hard, coming here, having to adjust to your new reality. I suppose I should have known better than to expect anything to go easy.” 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


“You want to come with me to get your big sister?” FP asked Charlotte, who was buckled into her car seat in the back of his truck. “Or you want to go home? Mommy might be awake now.”

 

“You said Mommy and Jelly were sleeping, though,” she sighed. “I wanna get Betty.”

 

“They were sleeping,” he said. “Your mom’s tired because of the babies, you know? She’s growing two new humans inside of her.”

 

FP didn’t know how much of Alice being pregnant Charlotte fully understood. He knew that she understood that she was going to become a big sister (Jellybean was excited to explain that to her, and she’d taken great care to show her the recording of the ultrasound that they’d gotten at Alice’s appointment — Charlotte had been entranced) and he knew that Alice had explained that the babies were in her belly, but she was five, and he didn’t know quite how much five year olds understood about the whole thing. 

 

“Jellybelly showed me the TV,” she supplied. “Mommy says they are in her tummy.”

 

“Yeah, they are.” He grinned at her in the rear view mirror. “I remember when you were in Mommy’s tummy, did you know that? You almost came out here.”

 

“In the truck?” Charlotte questioned, her eyes wide. “Why?”

 

“I guess you were ready to come,” he told her, as he drove out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of the middle school. “Probably wanted to meet me.” He was teasing her. 

 

“Do you think Mommy will have Candy Cane and Marshmallow in the truck too?”

 

“I don’t think so, Princess.”

 

“That makes sense,” she said, her tone sage. “There are two of them, so you’d probably take the station wagon.”

 

He chuckled. “You’re a funny kid, Lottie. Hopefully no one will want to be born in any car, yeah? We want you to be special.” 

 

“I’m super special, Daddy,” she agreed. “We should stop and get Mommy flowers on the way home from getting Betty.” 

 

“Flowers? Why?” 

 

“They’re pretty, like Mommy,” she said, after a moment of thought. “Please, Daddy?”    
  


“Yeah, sure, Lottie, we can get your mom flowers. I think that will be real nice. Maybe we can get something to make for dinner, too, you wanna help me?”

 

Charlotte’s eyes lit up, and he grinned at her visible excitement. He couldn’t believe how big she was getting, and that in just two months she’d be six. She was growing up right before his eyes. Well, all of the kids were, really. It was strange seeing how much Jughead and Jellybean had grown while they were in Toledo for months on end. But Charlotte? For so long she had been their baby -- he had thought that she was going to be their only baby -- and the twins that were on their way and the fact that she was old enough to be in school made him realize that she was really on her way to becoming a big kid. It made him sad, if he was honest with himself, but at the same time, he thought it was fucking amazing. 

 

“What can we make, Daddy?” 

 

“Thinking maybe pasta,” he mused, as he pulled up in front of the school, unsurprised to see that Betty was patiently waiting for him. “You been waiting long?” 

 

“Not very long.” She opened the door and climbed in beside him, her bag being placed beside Charlotte, who waved happily at her big sister. “Hi, Lottie.” Betty blew her a kiss. “Hey, Dad.” FP was surprised when she pressed a kiss to his cheek, but he didn’t show it. 

 

“Hey, kiddo. I’m sorry I didn’t take you home with me when I came here earlier to get the boys. I should have.”

 

“It’s okay,” Betty said. “I didn’t mind staying at school. Where’s Mom?”   
  


“Daddy said she’s sleeping,” Lottie informed her, clearly pleased to be privy to the information. “Candy Cane and Marshmallow make her sleepy.” 

 

“Reggie’s dad is really angry about what Jughead and Archie did to him, even though Jughead didn’t even do anything. Archie was the one who punched him. I’m glad Mom had you come get us because I heard him complaining about her, too. While I was waiting.” 

 

“Did you?” FP didn’t know Marty Mantle very well. He had been a few years ahead of them at school, and, to be honest, FP couldn’t have been very assed to deal with him at the time, nor could he be assed to deal with him now. There were Northsiders like Alice, and then there were people like the Blossoms and Hal, and he ranked Mantle up with them. He’d tried to get along with Hal for the sake of the children. That hadn’t worked. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let Marty Mantle’s pompous ass talk badly about any of his family, let alone his own wife. “That’s him, right there, right?”

 

Betty nodded. “Yeah, but Dad, it’s all right.” 

 

“It’s not all right, Betty.” 

 

“I don’t want you to get in a fight with him,” she whispered. “I don’t like when people fight, it reminds me of how my parents used to be.” 

 

FP wanted to punch Mantle in his smug ass face, but he didn’t want to upset Betty, and he could tell that she was upset at the thought. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, and squeezed her shoulder. 

 

“‘s fine, Betts. I don’t have to.” 

 

“Can we go buy Mommy her flowers?” Charlotte demanded. 

 

“Flowers?”

 

“Uh huh,” she chirped. “You help me, Betty.” 

  
  
  


***

  
  


Alice had woken up from her nap entirely refreshed, and she had almost forgotten about the mid-day arrival of Archie and Jughead, content to write it off as a dream, were the two teenagers not standing in front of her, clutching what looked to be a terrible reason for using her good copy paper, and her very expensive home office setup. She didn’t mind Jughead using it, it was Archibald she did not trust unsupervised. 

 

“What is this?” The disdain was evident in her tone, and she took the sheaf of paper from Archibald, and scanned it, her scowl deepening. “What in God’s name possessed you to write this?”

 

“Principal Weatherbee said that we had to,” Jughead informed her. “To avoid the incident going on our permanent records.” 

 

“Permanent records? Permanent records? The two of you are in middle school! Why do you have to worry about a permanent record? Why the hell isn’t that heathen being punished for whatever he did to meet his justified fate? This is unacceptable. The two of you will  _ not _ be writing this. I will go down to the school, and deal with this myself.” She paused. “No, your father and I will both go. You should not be punished for defending yourself against a bully.” 

 

“He said that Reggie’s family were upstanding members of our community, and he didn’t think that it made sense to punish him for something that wasn’t ‘factually incorrect’,” Archie said. “Is what he said true? Did Jughead and Jellybean’s mom really run drugs? What does that even mean?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Alice said, her tone flat. “I’ll see to it that the school never does this ever again. Why don’t the two of you watch television or play some video games?”

 

“We’re not in trouble for being suspended?” 

 

“No,” she sighed. “I don’t have the energy to punish you for the crimes others commit.” 

 

“Are you okay, Alice?” Jughead asked. “Is everything okay with the babies?”

 

“Don’t worry, Jughead,” she assured him, as she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the forehead, before he surprised her with a hug. “The babies are fine, I’m fine, being tired is just a part of pregnancy.” 

 

“I didn’t realize.”   
  


“It’s all right, honey. Thank you for asking about me.”

“You’re my stepmom,” he said. “They’re my siblings.” 

 

“Mommy, are you awake?” Alice heard Charlotte question loudly, and she glanced out into the hallway to see that her kindergartener was clutching a bouquet of flowers. “We gotted you pretty flowers.” 

 

“You can go see her,” Jughead said. “I’m gonna play with Arch.” 

 

And so, she walked into the hallway, pleased to see that Lottie had been joined by FP and Betty. 

 

“Mommy!” 

 

“Hi, Lottie,” she said, as she made her way towards them. “These are very pretty, you’re right. Did you get them on your own?” 

 

She shook her head. “Daddy let me and Betty pick them out for you,” she informed her. “I’m gonna help him make dinner!”   
  


“That sounds lovely,” she admitted. “What are the two of you going to make?” 

 

“Was thinkin’ pasta, babe, if you and the twins find that agreeable?” 

 

“That sounds nice,” she told him, and she leaned in to kiss him softly. “I love you.” 

 

“Love you, too, babe.” 

  
  
  



	19. mama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not your fault, Mama,” Jellybean snuffled. “I just thought it was my fault, and I don’t want you to die because of me, or Daddy.”

“Why can’t I go back to school, Mommy?” Charlotte questioned, for what felt like the millionth time, and Alice bit back a sigh, as she reminded herself that it wasn’t her five year old’s fault she was murderously angry at the staff at both Riverdale Elementary and Riverdale Middle School. “I didn’t even get to hitted anyone.” She pouted. 

 

“Is that what you’re upset about? The fact that you didn’t get to hit anyone?” Alice had to admit that she was sort of tickled that  _ that _ was why Charlotte was in a funk, rather than any thoughts of how an unexpected break in her education could potentially have negative effects. She had to admit that she thought it was cute. “I’m sorry that you weren’t given the opportunity to do so,” she said, and she knelt down to give her a kiss. “Aren’t you Mommy and Daddy’s little angel?” 

 

“I’m a good girl,” she insisted. “Why doesn’t Daddy gets to stay home?” 

 

“He’s making money,” she explained. “I’m sure that he’ll be glad to see you when he gets home, however.”

 

“He took Juggie and Archie with him, and not me.” 

 

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Maybe he can take you with him tomorrow? Do you want me to ask him for you?” 

 

Lottie gazed up at her, clearly contemplating Alice’s request. She slowly shook her head. “It’s okay, Mommy, I can ask him when he gets home. I’m a big girl.” 

 

“You’re a big girl now?”   
  


“Jelly says I’m gonna be a big sister,” she explained. “Doesn’t that make me a big girl?”

 

“I suppose that it does.” 

 

“Are they still in your tummy?” 

 

“Yes, sweetie, they’re still in my tummy, they’re not due for quite awhile. They have to get bigger. It takes them a fair bit of time. Do you want to say hi to them?” 

 

“Uh-huh. What was it like when I was in your tummy?” 

 

“One of the happiest times of my life,” Alice said, and Charlotte beamed at her response. “Your dad and I were  _ very  _ excited to have you on the way. Just like we’re excited now.”

 

“Daddy told me that I almost came out in his truck,” she informed her, as she climbed up onto the couch, and settled down beside Alice, who tucked the blanket that she’d placed over her lap around her youngest. “He doesn’t want the babies to come there.”

 

“No, I can imagine he wouldn’t.”

 

“I told him that we would take the station wagon to the hospital when the babies decided to come,” she continued. “Because it makes sense, when we all go places together, that’s what we take. Why would they come in the truck?”

 

“You...well, you wouldn’t be wrong,” she said, and she pressed her hand to her abdomen, and silently hoped that the twins wouldn’t follow in their sister’s footsteps. Alice did not think that she wanted to experience an unmedicated birth of twins, in her station wagon. “Hopefully they aren’t quite as fast as you.” 

 

“Why did I want to come out in the truck?” 

 

Alice wrapped her arm around Lottie, and pulled her close. She closed her laptop, determined to give her daughter the attention that she deserved. 

 

“I guess you were just ready to come,” Alice explained to her. “You were overdue, so when you decided to make things start to happen, they  _ really  _ started to happen.” 

 

“Cool.”

 

“You’re the best Valentine that I could have ever asked for,” she assured her. “Even though you wanted to be born in the truck.” 

 

“I was silly.” She giggled. “I want to say hi to Candy Cane and Marshmallow,” she added. “Are they cold? Are you cold, Mommy?”

 

“Oh, no, sweetie, I’m fine. I just thought it would be nice to be cozy in here, especially with how cold it is outside.” 

 

“What about them?” Charlotte’s eyes were filled with concern, and Alice simply took her hand and laid it on her belly, which was nice and warm due to the combination of the sweater she had on and the comforter that she’d cuddled them both up with. “Ooh, you’re getting bigger!”

 

“You think so?” 

 

She nodded, and the action made her ponytail bounce, and her hand remained pressed against Alice’s abdomen, with the other one joining it shortly. Alice settled herself against the back of the couch, not wanting any feelings of discomfort that she might have had stop Charlotte’s fun in its tracks. She had been worried about Charlotte’s reaction to the babies she and FP were expecting, given that she was only five, and had been the baby of the family for a very long time. She had been expecting to have more time getting her used to the idea, and, well, obviously her body had had other plans. Alice was just glad that Lottie seemed to be excited about the little beings that were taking up space inside of her. 

 

“Daddy thinks so, too,” she whispered into her ear, and she watched her light up at the fact that FP thought that Alice’s was showing more. Lottie was definitely a daddy’s girl. “He told me so this morning, before he left for work with the boys.” 

 

“Daddy’s excited about them,” she divulged. “We talked about them yesterday.” 

 

“I know he is.” She pressed a kiss to Charlotte’s cheek. “He was excited for you, too.” 

 

“I love you, Mommy.” 

 

“I love you too.” 

 

“Can I get Jellybelly and see if she wants to cuddle with us? I think she’s sad.” 

 

“Tell you what. Why don’t you pick out a couple movies to watch, sweetie, and I’ll go see if Jellybelly feels like joining us?”

 

“You promise you’ll come back?” 

 

“I promise.” 

 

“Okay, Mommy,” she agreed, her tone dutiful. “I’ll pick movies me  _ and _ Jelly like.” 

 

Alice ruffled her hair. “You’re a good little sister.”

 

“Am I good at being a big sissy too?” 

 

“Of course you are. Where is Jellybelly?”   
  


“In our room.” 

 

Even though Alice and FP had ensured that the house (Alice had couched it in terms of the phrase house for the sake of FP’s sense of pride, as he seemed to occasionally think that they could all squeeze into a double wide, but to be frank, it was more along the lines of a mansion) had separate bedrooms for all of the kids, Jellybean had insisted that she wanted to share a room with Lottie, whom she had doted on from the moment she had realized that Alice was pregnant. Due to FP’s custody arrangement, he had gotten Jughead and Jellybean for both Thanksgiving and Christmas break, and the three year old had both comprehended the fact that there was a baby on the way and figured out that the little one was going to be her baby sister. Jellybean had insisted that when Lottie was old enough, they were going to share a room. 

 

And, share they had. 

 

True to Lottie’s words, Alice located Jellybean in their bedroom, curled up in a ball underneath her blankets. She knocked softly on the door, not wanting her to feel obligated to invite her in. 

 

“Jellybelly? Do you mind if I come in?”

 

“Mama?” 

 

“Yeah, honey, it’s me,” she said. “Can I cuddle with you?”

 

“If you really want to.” 

 

“Of course I want to,” she assured her, as she stepped into the room. She approached Jellybean’s bed and sat on the edge. “You sure you want me to?” 

 

“Yeah, you and Candy Cane and Marshmallow need your rest,” she mumbled. “I’m just sad because I miss my mom. I  _ know _ that you’re my mom now and that you’ve  _ always _ been like my mother except you didn’t do drugs and you  _ love _ Daddy and -- why did she do it, Mama? Is Trinity right? Is it my fault that she died?” 

 

“No, baby, it’s not your fault she died.” Alice settled on the bed and let Jellybean curl up into her, as she petted her hair. “I don’t know what that girl and her brother were thinking, but none of this is your fault, or Jughead’s. Your mother was broken, Jellybean. Sometimes people can’t help themselves, no matter how hard they try.” She pressed a kiss to the top of Jellybean’s head. “I’m so sorry that she’s dead, honey. I wish that she wasn’t because I know that you love her. I know that you miss her, and I know that I’ll never replace her.”

 

“It’s not your fault, Mama,” Jellybean snuffled. “I just thought it was my fault, and I don’t want you to die because of me, or Daddy.”

 

“Jellybean, honey, you don’t have to worry about that,” Alice said. “Dad and I, we’re fine. Nothing bad is going to happen to either of us, and if it did, it would never be your fault. I promise.” 

 

“Okay, Mama. I believe you.”   
  


“Did you want to come downstairs and watch some movies with Lottie and me? I’ll make your favorites.”   
  


“You bought shapes mac and cheese?” Jellybean perked slightly at the thought.

 

“Yes, and tater tots.” 

 

“You bought tater tots?” Her eyes lit up. “Why, Mama?” 

 

“Because I’m having cravings,” she confessed. “Seems your younger siblings are taking after you.”

 

“You really think so?”

 

“I know so, Jellybelly. Are you upset because Lottie has been asking questions about when she was born?”

 

She shook her head. “No, Mama, I love Lottie, she can’t help that she’s the only one with a happy story.” 

 

“Honey, your dad, he loves you. He was so excited when you were born. So was Jughead. I don’t want you to think that because your mom passed away and your parents didn’t get along that your dad wasn’t happy that you were born, and a part of his life. I remember he was proud of being a dad again.”

 

“What about Betty and Polly?” Jellybean snuggled closer to her. “You were happy when you had them, right?”

 

“The happiest,” she whispered. “I love all of you, though. No matter when I became your mom. Okay?”   
  


“Do you pinky promise?” 

 

“Yeah, I pinky promise.” 

 

“Okay. I’ll come watch the movie with you and Lottie. Can I help you cook?”

 

“Sure you can, baby.” 

  
  


***

  
  


“I need to speak with you,” Alice said, when FP finally came home, and he stopped in the middle of taking off his jacket to squint in her direction. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine, I’m fine, I just want you to be aware of a conversation that took place earlier today.”

 

“Don’t tell me Betty’s been suspended, too.” 

 

“Don’t tempt fate like that,” she said. “No, it’s just something that I want to talk to you about, before I forget.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss, which he eagerly returned. He wrapped his arms around her waist. “We can either step into my office, or we can go upstairs.” 

 

“As tempting as stepping into your office is,” FP said, his voice low, and he kissed her again. “I think upstairs is the better bet. Maybe, after we talk, you can join me in the shower.”

 

He didn’t know what had gotten Alice all worked up, but he liked how she perked at the thought of a shower. He desperately needed on after a hard day’s work, and he didn’t mind sharing one with his gorgeous wife. He kissed her temple. 

 

“A shower does sound nice,” she agreed. “Very relaxing.”

 

“I’m gonna go say hi to the kids,” he told her. “I’ll meet you upstairs?”

 

“I’ll be there,” she promised. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.” 

 

“I won’t.”

 

He hung up his jacket and entered the living room, pleased to see that everyone was settled in nicely. There was a fire that going in the fireplace, and a television program playing softly that Jellybean and Lottie were engrossed in, and he was happy that Betty and the boys had sat down to watch it as well. FP wasn’t overjoyed with Archie living there, but, he was glad he was getting along with the kids. 

 

“Daddy’s home,” he heard Jellybean say, and watched as she nudged Lottie’s shoulder. “You gonna say hi to him?”

 

“I’m coming over to you girls,” he corrected, as he crossed the room to them, and gave both of them hugs. “I missed you two. What did you do today?”

 

“Mommy made us macs and cheese,” Charlotte told him. “She told me and Jelly that the babies are craving it. We watched movies together.” 

 

“Can we go to work with you tomorrow?” Jellybean asked. 

 

“That’s not fair!” Charlotte whined. “I was gonna ask him.” 

 

“He’s  _ my  _ daddy, too, I wanted to ask him.” 

 

“Have the two of you been fighting all day?” FP demanded. “What is the matter?” 

 

“Nothing,” Jellybean said, her tone sullen. “I just wanted to know if we could go.”

 

“She’s being mean, Daddy,” Charlotte insisted. FP sighed. “I wanted to ask you.” 

 

“Do you  _ want _ me to shut off the movie, Jellybean?” Jellybean shook her head. “I didn’t think so. Apologize to your sister.” 

 

“Sorry, Charlotte.” 

 

“It’s okay,” she said. “Mommy said Jelly was sad today.”

 

“Because I took Jugs and Red and not the two of you? I’m sorry, Bean, I didn’t mean to upset you. If it’s alright with your mother, I’ll take you both with me tomorrow, okay?”

 

“You’ll really ask her?” 

 

“Yeah, I’ll ask her right now.” 

 

“You should probably take a shower first,” Jellybean whispered into his ear. “I don’t want the babies to make Mama sick because Lottie and I wanted to do something.” 

 

FP pressed a kiss to Jellybean’s cheek. “That’s sweet of you, worrying about mama,” he whispered. “You’re a good girl.” 

 

“What about me, Daddy?” Charlotte asked. “I good girl too?” 

 

“Of course you are. I’m so proud of the two of you.” He planted a kiss on her cheek as well. “I’ll be back, okay?”

 

They nodded, their attention recaptured by the movie that was playing on the screen, and he took the opportunity to slip out of the room and head upstairs, where Alice, and their shower, awaited him. Jellybean was probably right to tell him that he needed a shower. He didn’t want to offend everyone in the house with how he smelled. 

 

“Talk first, or shower?” He asked Alice, who was still fully dressed. “What’s up? You okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” she said. “Everything’s fine with me, and the babies. I’m just worried about Jellybean. She’s very upset about what happened yesterday at school.” 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Apparently the Mantle girl, and who even knows who else, have informed our daughter that it’s her fault Gladys died,” Alice said. “I don’t know if they said that directly, or if she’s just upset and is extrapolating, but I don’t want her to feel like she is the reason that Gladys killed herself! It  _ isn’t _ her fault and I won’t be having people telling her that it is.” 

 

“Why the hell are they doing that?” 

 

“I don’t know, if I knew I would have handled it on my own,” she admitted. “I don’t want Jellybean to feel unsafe at school! I don’t understand what the teacher, and the principal, what they were thinking. She’s just a kid. Why would they punish her for what those kids were saying?” 

 

“I don’t know, Alice,” he said. “You think that this has been going on since we brought them home?”

 

“I don’t know,” she answered. “It never even occurred to me that it  _ would _ happen.” 

 

“We’re going to have to talk to them about it, aren’t we?” 

 

FP really didn’t want to discuss Gladys (or how she’d died) with either Jellybean or Jughead. It was probably unhealthy of him to  _ not _ want to discuss her, but, well, he felt that the kids had already been failed at getting a normal life, and he really hadn’t wanted to ruin what was likely their only chance at it. 

 

The fact that that choice had been taken out of his hands because of the punk ass Mantle kids  _ really _ pissed him off. 

 

“I can be the one to speak with them,” Alice said, after a moment. “I understand that you don’t want to talk to them about this, and I respect that.”   
  


“What I want clearly doesn’t matter anymore,” he muttered. “What the hell was the point of me going to those damn schools and making it  _ clear _ that their mother wasn’t going to be discussed? By anyone! No, Alice, I won’t put this on you. I won’t force you to be the one that fixes all of my problems.”

 

“They’re not a problem,” she said, and he felt her wrap her arms around him. “Even if they were, they’re  _ our _ problem, not just yours.” He felt her kiss the nape of his neck. “I don’t want you to ever think that you’re alone, okay?”   
  


“I know, Al. I know.” 

 

She ruffled his hair. “For now, though, I think your idea of a shower is a good one.” He felt her kiss the top of his head. “Not just because I find the idea of sharing with you  _ very _ romantic, but, because, you smell like you rolled around in mud.” 

 

“Jellybean told me that she was afraid the babies wouldn’t agree with you being around me unless I cleaned myself up,” he chuckled. “Seems to me that she’s enamored with her baby siblings.” 

 

He stripped off his dirty clothes and placed them in the hamper, followed by his boxers. 

 

“Want some help, babe?” 

 

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Alice teased. “Why don’t you get started in the shower, and I’ll come in and join you?”

 

FP smirked. He liked the sound of that. 

 

“I’ll be in in just a second,” she said. 

 

At the look she gave him, FP made the executive decision to head into the shower, and he turned it on and soaped up, determined to be as clean as possible for Alice’s sake when she got in to join him. He wrinkled his nose at how he smelled, and he winced, thinking of how much more hideous he probably smelled to Alice, who was pregnant, and who therefore had super-smelling-powers. Jellybean had been right to advise him that her mother would appreciate him bathing before they were in any way intimate. He knew that Alice wasn’t intending for their shower to be solely for the sake of cleanliness, but rather because she enjoyed the intimacy of showering together, but the fact was that in order for them to enjoy that, FP had to be clean. It was only polite. 

 

“Lookit here,” he heard Alice say, and he turned to see her standing behind him, an appreciative look in her eyes. “I always thought you’d clean up nice.” 

 

“Capable of a lot of things for a woman like you,” he said. “Want me to wash you?” 

 

She handed him a washcloth, and nodded eagerly. He pressed a kiss to her lips. The water washed over both of them. 

 

“I’m a lucky gal,” she told him. “Later, maybe, we can take a bath together?” 

 

“Of course, Alice.” FP had to admit that he was starting to grow fond of baths, not the least because they soothed Alice’s various aches and pains, which were oftentimes pregnancy related. “I’d say we could do it now, but, the kids. They’d probably interrupt us.” 

 

She giggled. “I wouldn’t want that. Once we get Jelly and Lottie down for the night.” She kissed him hungrily. “Maybe, after the bath, we can have a little fun?”

 

“I’m always up for a little fun, Al.” He tenderly massaged her belly with the washcloth. “These ones treating you okay?” 

 

“For the most part,” she said. “So far, just normal, pregnancy, symptoms. Nothing to worry about.” 

 

“Good,” he whispered. “That makes me very happy to hear.” 


End file.
